Destiel Advent
by mapal
Summary: A collection of drabbles and oneshots written between 1st and 25th December 2012. The every day lives of Dean and Cas leading up to Christmas, and their first Christmas together as a couple.
1. First

It was still dark outside when Dean woke up, cocooned in the fabulous warmth of the bed sheets with an angel wrapped around him. He blinked into the shadows of the bedroom, listening to the silence and marvelling at the difference compared to the blizzard that had been kicking up the night before. Dean let out a low sigh and arched back against the angel who was curled up behind him, one arm slung over his hips, breath warm against his neck. Cas moaned softly in his sleep and drew Dean closer, strong arms tightening their grip.

Dean would have just laid there for the rest of the day and never ventured out into the chilled air of the bedroom, but nature called. "Cas," he mumbled, trying to prise the angel away from him. It only resulted in Cas tightening his grip further. "Lemme go." He heard a disgruntled groan from behind him and then felt a light kiss against his neck.

"Never," came the gruff, sleep-heavy response. Dean laughed and trailed his fingers over the angel's knuckles.

"I have take care of business, I'll be back," Dean murmured, gently removing himself from Cas' grip.

He glanced over his shoulder as he sat up, catching sight of Cas' blue eyes glinting in the dim light, watching him as always. He offered a smile briefly before straightening up and padding towards the bathroom. The floorboards were cold against his feet and he made a mental note to bug Cas into agreeing to buy carpets. The rustic, natural charm of floorboards was nothing if they froze your feet off.

The house creaked gently as Dean moved through it, its old walls settling around him and encasing him in a strange familiarity. They had only moved in a few months ago, but already it felt like home. Dean was glad they had decided to make the move to have somewhere more permanent to retreat to between hunts, somewhere that was most definitely theirs. He was also glad that the person he was sharing space with was Cas. Their relationship was still undefined, still so fresh and new, but it felt like they had been together for millennia. Of course there were still tiffs, still the odd little arguments where one of them was too stubborn and bull-headed to admit defeat, but Dean had never been in a relationship like it. Committed hardly covered what they were.

Maybe it was something to do with being dragged out of Hell by your soul mate, or running for your lives in Purgatory together, or watching the one you loved fight and fall and knowing there's nothing you can do about it, but the bond between them was something that could never be labelled, and so they never did. They were more than partners, more than boyfriends, a word that Dean would openly laugh at, more than any conventional term. They were linked at their cores, beyond skin and bone. To define it would be to tarnish the purity of it.

Dean caught sight of his face in the bathroom mirror and spotted the faint smile still tugging at his lips, the sight only making his smile broaden into a grin. Sam would say he looked a lot healthier lately, that he had filled out and not just in the physical sense. Dean would deny it and punch him on the shoulder, but whenever he spotted the faint smile in the mirror he knew it was true. Cas had changed his life in so many ways, turning it upside down and wedging himself in an empty space Dean wasn't even aware he had.

He took care of business quickly before hurrying back to the bedroom, boards creaking beneath his feet, guiding his path back to the angel. He found Cas on his back, hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. The angel's eyes ticked over to him and a smile crept onto his face, that honest, bright expression that showed his top teeth and reached his eyes, lighting them up every time. "Took your time," Cas called softly as Dean shut the door behind him and moved back to the bed.

The sheets were still warm as Dean slithered back between them, soon encased in that strong embrace again as Cas rolled over to meet him. "You humans and your business," he muttered as he pressed a kiss to Dean's bare shoulder, one hand trailing slowly down Dean's side. Dean hummed and rolled to face the angel, bringing a hand up to rest against Cas' cheek.

"Shush," he grumbled, pressing a light kiss against the angel's lips. Cas smiled against the kiss, tugging gently so Dean was on top of him, settled between his legs.

"Make me," he replied softly, strong hands running down Dean's sides. Dean chuckled and tangled a hand loosely in Cas' hair.

"Mm." He teased Cas' lips softly with his tongue. "I would, but I need to get up," he murmured, kissing the angel teasingly. "Sam'll be here soon."

"Why he has to be here at sunrise is something I will never understand," Cas muttered, chasing Dean's mouth with his own as the hunter pulled away and pressed a few kisses along the angel's neck.

"Because he's a freak," Dean grumbled.

"You have time," Cas growled out as Dean nipped playfully at the soft skin of his neck. Dean hummed in gentle agreement but continued to tease. "We can be quick."

"You can be quick," Dean murmured against skin, breath hot and moist, lips teasing lightly. He heard the deep rumble in Cas' chest before he felt the strong hands against his shoulders, pushing him over until the angel was on top of him, straddling his hips easily. Cas pinned Dean's arms above his head and stared at him with those intense eyes, a grin tugging at his lips.

"I didn't hear you complaining about my stamina last night." His breath was gentle and warm against Dean's face, his fingers firm around Dean's wrists, his hips pressing down against Dean's growing arousal. There was only one way this could go.

Dean was just pulling on his jeans in a frenzy when he heard the car pull up outside. Of course Cas wasn't quick, he never was. He had had his wicked way with Dean, denying him until he was perfectly ready to let loose and fuck him into the mattress. Dean hadn't even brushed his teeth or had a shower, and already Sam was there. "I am so getting you back later," he growled as he pulled on some socks and staggered towards the bedroom door. Cas barked out a laugh and pulled on his shirt at a leisurely pace. He was never one for being humble or following social norms, he would look thoroughly fucked in front of Dean's brother and not give a damn.

Sam's amused smirk as Dean pulled open the front door said it all. He took in Dean's shirtless appearance and flushed cheeks, the bite marks still visible against his shoulders, bruises sucked into his chest and neck, and raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Dean," he said smoothly.

"Shut your mouth. This had better be good, it's cold out," Dean bit back as he retreated into the house to find a shirt. His living habits hadn't changed much. Clothes were scattered at various points in the house, belongings arranged in a similar manner, but he knew where everything was.

"It is good. Thought you might like to take your anger out on a vamp nest about twenty miles south of you. Only a day job," Sam called as he wandered into the living room. He stayed with them now and then, between hunts where he had to travel a long way, too far for him to get back to Amelia straight after or when he was just too tired to drive.

"Sounds like a blast," Dean answered from the kitchen as he tugged a shirt out of the dryer and pulled it on over his head. He heard footsteps on the stairs and met Cas in the hallway, casting a quick gaze over the ruffled, satiated appearance of the angel. "Are you coming?" Cas nodded and threw a grin at Sam as the taller man came through from the lounge.

"Of course," he replied softly, padding past the pair of them and through the door Sam had just appeared from. The younger brother raised an eyebrow at the ruffled hair and stupid grin but didn't say anything more. He had moved past tormenting after Dean had gotten him back by having a very loud session with the angel in the next motel room over.

Dean pulled on his boots, sat at the bottom of the stairs, and glanced up at Sam. "How's Amelia?" Sam grinned at that, an expression Dean would never tire of seeing on his brother's face, and nodded.

"She's doing great, thanks." Dean straightened his back and gazed at his brother for a moment, contemplating a thought that had just crept into his mind. It was slightly crazy, maybe slightly stupid, but he had to suggest it.

"Hey, Sammy, how about Christmas?" he blurted out before he could think twice about it. Sam frowned and opened his mouth to say something before closing it again. "Stupid idea, I know… but we could do it here. We have plenty of room. Cas is a great cook, you know. He hasn't burned anything yet, he just absorbs cook books like he's a sponge." He was rambling he knew that. Sam raised a hand to cut him off, a small huff of laughter escaping him.

"Dean… I think… I think it's a great idea," he said quietly. Dean stared at him for a moment, taking in that response, before a grin finally cracked onto his face. It was a great idea. The excitement started to build up in him immediately, bubbling up until he was laughing and jumping to his feet.

"Alright! It's sorted!" He spotted Cas returning from the living room, dressed in his familiar coat, hair still stuck out at odd ends but looking like it was meant to do that. "We're doing Christmas, Cas!" The angel offered him a confused frown and Dean wiped it away with a fierce hug. He was like a five year old, he was aware, but Christmas was something he hadn't really seen since he was four.

It was the best idea.


	2. Second

Dean had no idea how they ended up there, in a field to one side of a road, looking out across miles of untouched snow. The heavy blizzard two days ago had left everything covered in a deep blanket of cold white. The Impala's engine clicked gently as it cooled down behind them, the only noise disturbing the silence out there in the middle of nowhere. "Dean, what are we doing?" Cas asked quietly, breath clouding on the air as he squinted out over the smooth, white landscape. Dean shrugged and kicked gently at the snow at his feet.

"Dunno, really. It looked nice, just felt like I had to pull over," he answered lamely, looking over to the angel. "Don't often see untouched snow nowadays. Kinda felt the need to mess it up, to be honest." Cas frowned.

"Why?"

"I guess it's human nature," Dean mused quietly. "You see fresh snow and you just have to jump in it." He fell silent for a moment, gazing down at the virgin snow in front of him, before hopping forwards into it, the snow reaching up past his ankles. "See? It's fun!" He laughed at the look of bewilderment on Cas' face. "Just try it," he encouraged gently.

Cas stared at him dubiously for a minute before stepping forward into the snow. He frowned and looked around. "I don't see how this is enjoyable," he grumbled quietly. Dean laughed and hopped forwards a few more times, kicking up white dust everywhere. After a few bounds he dropped down into the snow, flat on his back looking up at the vast, blue sky. "Dean, what are you doing?" The frowning face of the angel came into his vision and Dean grinned and started pushing his arms and legs through the snow.

"Making a snow angel," he chuckled. Cas watched him for a moment before a small smile spread onto his face and he moved out of Dean's view. Dean heard him drop down into the snow and pushed himself up onto his feet to take a look. "That's cheating," he laughed as he saw what Cas was doing. He was sprawled out on his back, fair enough, but he wasn't moving. The imprint of two, giant wings was pressed into the snow, the details of each feather etched into the white powder.

Cas hummed and closed his eyes. "This is quite pleasant," the angel muttered, opening his eyes to look up at Dean. Dean smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"See, I told you so," Dean said as his eyes trailed along the long, graceful curve of Cas' right wing. It arched right out and around up above his head, feathers fanning out elegantly. "How are you doing that, anyway?" The angel smirked and reached out to Dean with one hand. Dean took it and was tugged down so he was straddling Cas. His hand wasn't released, and was instead brought up towards the imprints in the snow above Cas' left shoulder.

Dean expected to feel cold, damp snow, but instead his fingers made contact with warm air, shifting around his fingers like satin. He sucked in a breath and spread his fingers out against the feathers, bringing his eyes back to meet Cas' gaze. "The myths had to come from somewhere," Cas murmured, snow puffing up in small plumes around the wing shapes as, Dean presumed, he fluttered the limbs gently.

"Can I see them?" Dean asked quietly, but Cas shook his head.

"Not yet. They're a manifestation of my grace, seeing them would burn your eyes out," he sighed. Dean sat back against the angel's hips, trailing his hands thoughtfully over the thin strip of blue around Cas' neck.

"Yet?" Cas smiled at that but didn't add any more, instead reaching up to pull Dean down to a kiss.

Kissing an angel whilst lying in the snow was not something Dean had previously thought of, but after that experience it was something he would consider more often.


	3. Third

Castiel was indulging in a shower as Dean tidied up around the house. He was never one for such a thing as tidying, but when you could hardly see the floor in some places and your angel actually nearly went full length to the floor trying to negotiate the house to the kitchen in the dark then it was time to attempt something like tidying.

It was mainly clothes and books that Dean hadn't bothered putting away, but old take-out wrappers were also lurking around under the sofa and behind the bookshelf. Dean truly had no idea how most of the stuff ended up where it did, but he had to admit it was quite therapeutic to clean it all up.

He found Cas' coat tossed over the back of the sofa and went to pick it up to hang it somewhere a little more appropriate. As the fabric shifted there was a gentle thud as something fell from one of the pockets. Cas was never really one to keep things in his pockets, as far as Dean knew. He never saw anything go in and out of the pockets other than the angel's hands. He looked down to the sofa where the object had fallen and caught sight of a small, silver box.

Confusion crept through him along with a faint sense of recognition as he reached down and plucked up the object from the sofa. It was a lighter, one that he hadn't seen for a good two years. He ran his thumb over the battered silver surface, tarnished and rubbed from fingers doing the same over and over. He remembered the last time he had seen this particular lighter. It had been just before Sam had said yes to Lucifer. It had been in much better condition back then, relatively new and untarnished.

The lighter was well loved. Had the angel been carrying it around all this time? Had he had it when he had been consumed by the souls of Purgatory? Had it been in his pocket when he had been running from Leviathan?

There's probably nothing worse than walking in to find a well-guarded secret had been unearthed by the one person you didn't want finding out. Cas' stomach dropped as he stepped into the living room to see Dean holding the small silver lighter that he had been carrying around for over two years. Dean looked at him with an unreadable expression and Cas reached for words he simply didn't have.

What they had between them was so very new, but he had been clinging onto the idea of Dean for longer than he would have admitted. When he had known he was returning to Heaven after they defeated Lucifer, he had felt the need to take something of Dean with him. He needed something to ground him, to keep him tethered to the reality he wished to save.

The lighter had remained in his pocket as he strived to find a way to fix the world. He had played with it idly, fingers rubbing over its surface, wearing it down until it was smooth and weathered. Every time he had doubted himself, he had run his fingers over the metal surface to remind himself why he was trying to change things, why he had to make the world better. It had all been for Dean.

When millions of souls had poured into him, filling him up more than he was capable of containing, the lighter had been heavy and so very present in his pocket. It almost burned when Dean prayed to him and asked him to stop. When the coat was returned to him after Dean found him again, he somehow knew it was there. He had found it soon after putting the coat on again, running his fingers over the familiar surface, over Dean's presence, and knew what he had to do. He had taken away Sam's pain and driven himself insane, but still the lighter remained.

It went with him to Purgatory, a steady anchor to reality, to Dean. It came back with him and, after he tidied himself up, it remained in his pocket. It had been his one tether to Dean through all the sins he had committed. It had been the one thing constantly reminding him of his purpose. If he had ever been in doubt, he had simply run his fingers over the metal and known he was doing everything for the right reasons.

And Dean was standing with it, right there, in the middle of their living room. "I can explain," he said hoarsely, words finally finding a way out of his mouth. Dean shook his head and Cas watched as he picked up the coat again and slid the lighter back into the pocket it had come from.

"No need," Dean murmured quietly, resting the coat down gently again before moving slowly over to the angel. "I get it." He was right up in front of Cas, bringing his hands up to rest on the angel's hips. Cas looked into his sincere green eyes and felt himself crumble. Of course Dean understood, he always understood. He had forgiven a lot worse than keeping some stupid lighter. "And I love you," the man mumbled before pressing his lips to Cas', soft and warm.

Little did Cas know that the tie he had lost a few months ago was stashed away secretly at the bottom of Dean's travel bag.


	4. Fourth

Dean and Castiel had been an item for a few months. It had taken a lot to get them where they were. Dean still remembered the talk he had had with Sam when he had first been hit by the train that was his feelings for the angel. It had not so much been an issue with his sexuality that had held him back. Dean had known for quite a long time that he most likely went more than one way, but the fact of the matter was that Cas was not just a man.

Cas was an incredible, powerful, immortal being in a human vessel. He was a soldier of the Lord. So many thoughts had gone through Dean's head when he had thought about his feelings for the angel. How could a relationship with an immortal being work? Did Cas even feel the same? Did Cas even understand what was happening? Was it a sin to have sex with an angel?

Sam had pretty much answered all of his questions with "talk to Cas" and left Dean to do all the hard work, quite rightfully. However speaking to an angel about how you were most likely deeply in love with them was never going to be easy. It took Dean longer than he would have liked to admit to talk to Cas. When he finally got up the courage, it was in a motel room in Illinois. Sam had been making the point to leave them alone a lot in the hope Dean would finally grow some balls, and then finally it happened.

"_Cas, I need to talk to you," Dean sighed, the niggling headache that had been bothering him lately just getting ten times worse as he tried to process the words he wanted to speak. The angel looked up at him from the TV, a simple look that said he was listening. Dean had his full attention, and suddenly he clammed up. "Lately I… uh… I've been thinking."_

Dean had never been one for smoothness. He knew he wasn't a genius when it came to emotional talks. He tried his best, sure, but it never went well. He sighed as he looked down at the old strip of metal in his fingers. It was an old part of the Impala that he had kept for some reason when he had been rebuilding her. It was flexible and it shined now the oil and grease had been cleaned off it. It had been in the pocket of an old pair of jeans, and as soon as he had found it he simply knew what he had to do with it. There was really only one thing that could be done with it.

"_We've been through a lot, Cas," he murmured, sitting down beside the angel on the worn out sofa of the motel room. Cas watched him calmly but curiously, his hands hanging loosely between his legs, long fingers relaxed. Dean watched them for a moment, lost in thought, before he felt a gentle nudge against his ribs. The damn angel was actually elbowing him to get his attention._

"_Dean, what is it?" There was actually a look of concern there now and Dean was starting to feel his resolve crumble. This was not at all how it was meant to go._

Dean ran his finger over the strip of metal before placing it down on the table in the garage and picking up the small knife he had found, sharp and delicate and just perfect for carving into soft metal. He leaned over and started to etch along the faint pencil markings he had made. His writing had never been neat but he had spent a good hour with an eraser and a pencil making the fancy cursive writing in tiny font on the silver strip.

"_I just… I need to tell you something." He was stumbling. The angel was watching him. He could feel the warmth radiating from Cas, bathing him in that glorious sensation that just made him feel like he had finally come home. He took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes. It was best to just treat it like a bandaid. "Cas… I… I think… I think I love you." He had toyed with the words for so long. __**Love**__, such a strong word. He had wondered for long enough if it was far too soon to say it, if just coming out with it like that was wise. Couples would often wait weeks, months even, before saying that word, but Dean was actually trying to start a relationship with it._

_He opened his eyes to see calm blue staring right back at him and he felt his body coil up like a spring, ready to run for the door. He had no idea which situation was more terrifying, rejection or commitment. "Dean… I… I love you, too," Cas finally said, a small frown crossing his face as if he were stating the most obvious thing. Dean was starting to think maybe the angel didn't really understand what he was trying to say but the argument quickly died on his lips as Cas pressed a hand to Dean's cheek gently, long fingers running softly over the usual coating of stubble._

_Each finger was like a small bolt of electricity, lighting Dean up and knocking the air straight out of him. He opened his mouth to say something but Cas quieted him with his own lips, leaning over to press them to Dean's. He tugged Dean closer, gently, and kissed him softly but passionately, pouring his heart into it. Dean returned it with his own heart, bringing a hand up to tangle his fingers in the messy dark hair of the angel._

Carving words into metal was pain-staking and frustrating, but Dean kept going. A few hours spent crafting something was nothing compared to the years of torture Castiel had been through just for him. He had fought his way through Hell, killed his own family and defied his Father, all in Dean's name. Nothing Dean could ever do would match up to that, he knew that much, but he had to provide something as a symbol of his love.

He finished carving the words and moved onto the other side of the ring to start on the rest of the design. United they had been, through Heaven, Hell, Earth and Purgatory. A flame to represent Hell, a feather for Heaven, a leaf for Earth and a drop of water for Purgatory and the cleansing experience it had been. Only in Purgatory had Dean finally come to terms with his emotions. It hadn't been until he had been lost and alone that he realised just what he needed. Of course he needed Sam, that was always a given, but he also needed the angel. With nothing to stop his doubt, he had realised at last what he had been hiding for so long.

"_I always imagined this day," Cas breathed against Dean's lips. He was warm, Dean could feel the heat coming from him as the angel straddled his lap easily on the sofa._

"_You should have said," Dean murmured, trailing a hand up the bared collarbone of the angel and up towards his neck. Cas hummed and leaned forwards to press a kiss to Dean's forehead._

"_Communication was never our strong point," he whispered, and Dean had to say he agreed._

He curved the band around until the ends met and began to solder it together, slowly and carefully. He knew he would come away with burns but it wasn't like he'd never burned himself before. He would wear the marks proudly.

He heard movement up in the house but kept going. Cas never bothered him while he was in the garage unless it was an emergency. The angel had a better understanding of personal space than Dean had first realised. The Impala and the garage were Dean's escape, just as the attic was Cas', and that worked well. Two people who had been through so much were bound to need places to gather their thoughts without fear of intrusion.

_Tangled sheets and cooling sweat, laboured breathing and pounding hearts. Dean was surrounded by angel, as if wings were wrapping him up, and he never felt more at home than he felt as he curled up with Cas on the motel bed. He was more satisfied than he could ever remember, the angel filling up spaces in his heart that he never knew existed. "That was… well… incredible," Dean murmured against Cas' chest. He heard the gentle huff of laughter and felt a soft kiss pressed against his head._

"_I'm glad I satisfy you," Cas replied, his voice rumbling through him like thunder rolling through a cloud. Dean had never allowed himself to really consider just what an incredible creature the angel was. It was humbling to lay beside him, beside such intense power, and feel absolutely no threat._

"_Cas…" He trailed off, wondering if now really was the best time to bring up his doubts. He heard the gentle hum from the angel, prompting him to continue, and took a deep breath. "Are you sure about this? I mean… I'm not really the best catch. I'm not really worth-" He was cut off by a sharp noise of protest from the angel. His vision was filled with sincere eyes and a look that was actually slightly angry. The anger only lasted a second, soon fading into fondness and a half smile._

"_I would die a thousand times over for you, Dean Winchester. I have seen your soul in its pure form, I have seen you inside out, I have seen your dreams and your nightmares. I will love you for the rest of my existence. Do you understand?" His words hit Dean at his very core and he felt a lump pushing up into his throat. He didn't trust his own voice, knowing he would simply break down if he even tried to speak, and so he only bit his lip and nodded. It was never a good idea to cry after sex, but he was heading that way anyway. "If you saw just a small amount of the light I see in you, you would think differently of yourself."_

Dean smoothed over where the metal band had been joined together, careful of the design he had carved into it. The small symbols were on the outside, and the words on the inside. He finally finished and turned the band over in his fingers, running his thumb over the designs thoughtfully. It wasn't much, but he had poured his heart into it. He trailed a finger slowly over the small words as he heard a voice calling him upstairs, the familiar gravelly tone that carried through every wall of the house. The cuts and burns from the metal were certainly worth it.

_Our Love, Eternal. _


	5. Fifth

Ever since Cas had returned from Purgatory he had never really been the same. Dean had noticed it more and more as time went on. It was the little things that maybe other people would never notice, but Dean was tuned into the angel very closely. Of course there had been the conversation in the motel room where the angel had said, straight out, that he would kill himself if he saw what he had done to Heaven, but that had just been the start of Dean's worries.

The more time Dean had spent with Cas, the clearer it had become that all was not right with the angel. He knew something wasn't right. He could see it when Cas' eyes glazed over and he got lost in his own thoughts, when the angel got stuck in menial tasks such as cleaning a weapon, fingers making the same motions again and again.

After Dean had expressed his feelings towards Cas things had only become painfully obvious. As the angel started hanging around more and more to spend time with Dean, the slips in his demeanour shone through. He would lose himself in television, lose his train of thought, forget what he was doing and be a general mess. The rest of the time he was as if nothing had ever happened to him, a powerful soldier with purpose. It unnerved Dean greatly.

When they had found out about the angels' control over Cas, Dean had been understandably furious. He had thought destroying that connection, getting rid of the manipulation, would bring the angel back to him. Of course Dean had never been lucky in his life. He settled down with Cas in their own place to give the angel space and time to recover, in a vain hope that a familiar place he could return to would ground him. It worked somewhat.

Cas was a lot better at home. Even when he zoned out he would continue around the house doing the task he was set on. There were times, however, when he completely slipped. Dean's heart would sink every time, just as it did when he stepped into the kitchen to see the angel about to set fire to a pan of bacon. His eyes were glazed over, his hand paused with the spatula in his grasp, the bacon burning to a crisp.

"Cas! Hey, hey come on, look at me," Dean breathed as he rushed over to the angel's side, flicking off the gas and taking Cas' hand. He didn't respond, gaze fixed out of the window, breathing creepily even as if controlled by a machine. "Cas?" Dean squeezed his hand lightly and tried to turn him, but it was impossible. He was like a statue. Dean felt the terror start to rise in him. "Hey, baby, come on." He was never one for pet names, not really. Cas was above all names he could ever come up with, they all sounded so strange on his tongue, but it slipped out in his moment of sheer panic.

He should have been relieved when Cas finally turned his eyes to him, but instead his stomach simply plummeted further. His gaze was blank, emotionless, as if the vessel in front of him was simply empty. "Cas?" Dean's voice was distant and hoarse and forced past the tense lump in his throat.

"The angels say I'm a sinner." Cas' voice was foreign and flat, devoid of emotion. "They say I lay with a demon. You corrupt and sin." Dean's mouth went dry and he felt bile rise in his throat.

"Cas, hey, turn off the angel radio, come on," he managed to say, voice begging. Cas' mouth hung open, grasping for words as he went to continue. His eyes were like glass, a confused, upset frown tugging at his brows.

"They say… they will kill us both for our unholy union." The words fell like a stone in Dean's stomach and he swallowed down the bile. "They cast me out."

"Cas! Please!" Dean pressed a hand to the angel's chest, right above his heart, and the act seemed to snap Cas out of his trance immediately. He gasped for air as if he had just been dragged out of a lake and his hands flew up to grab at Dean, gripping his arms like iron vices.

"Dean!" The broken cry shattered all the terror that had built up inside Dean and he drew the angel close, wrapping his arms around him as Cas clung to him and let out a ragged sob. Dean hushed him gently and smoothed a hand over his messy dark hair. This was all just getting worse and worse and he had no idea what to do about it.

"It's okay, Cas, I'm here," he choked, burying his face against Cas' shoulder as the angel shuddered and sobbed.

The ring Dean had made weighed heavy in his pocket as he felt the agonising tug at his heart. He had so many things he wanted to do and say to try and make this better and none of them seemed good enough. He let out a trembling sigh and squeezed Cas gently. "Come on, I think you need a rest," he breathed, starting to guide Cas out of the kitchen and up towards the bedroom. He was trying to find the link between the angel's state and the trances he fell into. He had thought maybe there were certain triggers, or maybe it was tiredness, but it seemed to happen at random.

He settled the angel down in bed and tugged the sheets up over him. Cas was a mess, eyes bloodshot and wide with terror. His hands were shaking and he was paler than Dean had ever seen him. "You need to shut them out," Dean said gently, running the back of his hand against Cas' damp cheek, brushing away the tears. "You don't need them." He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Cas' forehead. The angel closed his eyes and let out a trembling sigh, one hand coming up to cup at the back of Dean's neck and hold him in place.

"I only need you," he murmured, voice rough and low. Dean nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to Cas' lips.

"And I only need you," he replied softly. "Sleep, I'll make us something to eat in a bit." Cas nodded and released his grip on Dean's neck, curling up onto his side and pulling the covers up over his shoulder. Dean watched him for a long moment before rising from where he had knelt on the bed and leaving the room.

The fact that Cas was sometimes so drained that he could sleep would always be a worry. The fact that a soldier of the Lord was suffering from what could only be described of post traumatic stress and not handling it at all would always bother Dean, always upset him. Dean had his own issues, of course, but he would deal with those in his own time, just as he always had. There was no one else willing to help Cas recover, and he would gladly step up to that task.


	6. Sixth

**A/N: I apologise for this one being a bit late. My computer crashed and took half the story with it yesterday and I didn't have the heart to finish it until today. It's also not as good as it originally was, so I really am sorry.**

Dean could hear the music before he even got downstairs, the slightly upbeat song drifting up to his ears, not overly loud but loud enough for him to wonder what the hell was going on. He found Castiel on his back on the sofa, legs hanging over one end, an arm trailing on the floor. He had his eyes closed but his foot was idly tapping to the beat. Dean chuckled and looked down at him.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Cas started a little and opened his eyes to look up at Dean, his movements stilling. He turned his gaze towards the small set of speakers on the coffee table that was hooked up to an iPod, of all things. "And where did you get an iPod?" Dean picked it up idly to inspect it.

"Sam left it for me. He said there was music on there I'd like," Cas explained quietly, watching as Dean flicked through the music files.

"Of course. This reeks of Sam," he muttered to himself. He skipped through a bunch of totally depressing songs until one caught his attention. "_Demons_, huh?" He dropped the iPod back down and looked to Cas.

"I quite like this one," the angel mused quietly. Dean smiled as the song started playing, and had to admit it was pretty catchy.

Cas' foot was twitching again and Dean watched it for a moment, a grin creeping onto his face. "You ever dance, Cas?" The angel hummed and closed his eyes, his head shaking gently.

"Not in a thousand years," he sighed. Figured. Cas never seemed to do anything he actually enjoyed, and, judging by the perfect timing of his foot, dancing was something he certainly enjoyed. Dean couldn't believe what he was about to do.

"Come here," he said quietly, holding out a hand to the angel. Cas looked at the hand for a moment before looking up into Dean's eyes, a puzzled frown working its way onto his face.

"Why?" Even as he asked the question he was taking Dean's hand and pulling himself up onto his feet.

"Because." It was easy enough to pull Cas in against him, to wrap an arm around the angel's waist and lace his free hand with Cas'. "You need to do things you enjoy," Dean murmured, rocking their bodies with the smooth beat of the song.

Cas looked at him with a small half-smile. "I do a lot I enjoy," the angel said with a soft chuckle as he started to take the lead. Dean had to admit he wasn't a natural dancer. He looked down to his feet to stop himself stepping on Cas' bare toes, but the angel hardly seemed to care anyway. "When you asked if I could dance, I imagined that you knew how," Cas teased gently. Dean laughed and let the angel guide him along to the rhythm.

Cas led them in a dance that was like a mix between original ballroom and something more modern. It was a beautiful creation, and Dean was surprised yet again by Cas' talents. The angel held him close, showing him how to move with ease. "Just relax," Cas breathed against Dean's neck. Dean let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax against Cas' grip and move a little more freely to the music.

It was most likely that Cas was using some mojo to stop Dean stepping on his toes, that or Dean was actually a good dancer and he doubted that one. "Do you do anything without cheating?" Dean laughed as he pulled back, continuing to move to the increasingly bouncy music. Cas' shoulders scrunched a little as he laughed, that perfect laugh that showed his top teeth and put crinkles into the bridge of his nose.

"It's not cheating, just helping," the angel replied before taking Dean by surprise and spinning him out.

"I am not a woman," Dean growled as Cas tugged him back in tight against his body.

"Could have fooled me," Cas breathed, rocking them together through a slow part of the song. Dean frowned, but it came out more as a pout.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cas had been getting increasingly witty lately, much to Dean's expense. Sometimes he regretted teaching Cas free will, teaching him how to badmouth and actually talk back. Other times it was the best thing known to man.

"You cried during Titanic earlier," the angel teased. Today was not one of the days where his teasing was a good thing. Dean actually did frown this time.

"It's a sad movie," he argued before spinning Cas out this time. The angel took it easily, fluid in his motions and actually laughing. "See, you're much more elegant."

"I'm an angel," he chuckled, turning back into Dean as the music faded out.

A different song came on, slow and easy, and the angel began to guide Dean in a slow, intimate dance. Dean could feel Cas' heart pressed to his chest, the warmth of his breath against his neck. Again the wing weighed heavy in his pocket, but it still wasn't time. Dean would know when it was time. Cas sighed and trailed a hand down Dean's back. "I'm sorry, Dean," he muttered. Dean pulled away far enough to get a good look at Cas' eyes. He was regretful and sincere, gaze fixed on Dean's chest.

"What for?" Dean brought one hand up to rest against the nape of Cas' neck, fingers idly trailing through the short, dark hair there.

"How I've been. I know I'm broken." His voice was faint and quiet, but he finally lifted his eyes to look at Dean. Broken wasn't the word Dean would have used. Cas was more troubled than broken. "I'll try to fix it," the angel breathed, resting his head to Dean's chest as they swayed gently to the classical notes that sang from the small speaker.

"You can't fix it if it isn't broken, Cas," Dean muttered, pressing a light kiss amongst messy hair. He felt the angel sigh and cling to him a bit tighter. He knew Cas would never accept those words, knew that the angel would be blaming himself for the rest of his life for things that weren't his fault, but if he could just make him feel better, just for a little while, then that was enough.


	7. Seventh

Taking separate cars was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. In the blizzard that was raging, Dean lost sight of the tail lights of Sam's car. Not for the first time he cursed his brother for not riding in the Impala with him and Cas. "Dammit," Dean hissed as the snow worsened, the wipers not even clearing away the flakes that blocked his vision.

"Maybe we should just pull over," Cas sighed. "I can't trace Sam's car, he's got wards all over it." The angel seemed disgruntled and Dean understood why. Since they had discovered the angels' manipulation they had put in every extra precaution they could think of. Dean had an object in the Impala, just for Cas, that allowed the angel to find the car wherever it was, but Sam hadn't been so kind. Cas was also incapable of even getting into Sam's car.

"I'll make him sort that car out, seriously," Dean sighed as the glowing sign for a motel appeared up ahead. He glanced across as the angel suddenly shivered, a full-body shiver that was visible from the driver's seat. "You okay?" Cas frowned and tugged his coat a little closer around him.

"I'm cold," he replied, confusion lacing his voice. That was never good.

"Alright," Dean breathed, panic starting to rise in him. He swallowed it all down and slowed the Impala on the icy road to turn into the motel parking lot. "Just hold on, we'll get you warmed up soon."

Dean had to admit his heart was in his mouth as he ran to book them a room and came back to find Cas outside of the Impala, shivering and clinging to his coat in the hope it would provide the warmth he never needed it to provide before. "I don't like this," Cas said, his eyes a little wide and his fingers going red from the cold. Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him towards the motel room.

"I don't like it either. Maybe it's one of those weird hotspot things again that takes away your mojo," Dean muttered, shoving the key into the lock and twisting it quickly. He pushed the door open and let Cas go in first, glad to find that the room was relatively warm.

"I can't sense anything." Cas' voice was shaky and a little more high-pitched than usual. Dean closed the door and moved over to him, his own trembling fingers lifting to start to take off Cas' coat. "What are you doing? I'm cold," the angel whined.

"And so's your coat. Take it off and get into bed, you'll be warm there," Dean sighed. "And maybe that's the point, maybe you can't sense anything 'cause it's taken all your power." He was trying to reason this away, trying not to think the worst. Cas had been holding onto his angelic side for so long, he dreaded to think what it would be like to finally lose that.

He helped the angel out of his shoes and jacket and then into bed before kicking off his own boots and climbing under the sheets. Cas immediately curled up against him, seeking out any warmth that was available. "It's okay, Cas, I'm sure it's just temporary," Dean murmured as he wrapped the angel up in his arms as best he could. He wished then that he had wings, too, so maybe he could encase Cas in warmth.

Despite how inadequate it felt to simply put his arms around Cas, it seemed to work. The angel stopped shivering so much, balled up tight against Dean's chest, sheets drawn up over his shoulders. "I don't like being cold," Cas muttered against the soft fabric of Dean's t-shirt. "Hell was cold." Dean remembered Hell better than he liked to think. Cas was right, it had been far from the burning fire that people imagined it to be. It had burned like ice. Ending up in Hell was like being plunged into the Arctic ocean, only worse. The best part was there were flames everywhere, but none of them would warm you. Hell felt like it should be similar to the inside of a volcano, but instead it was made of ice.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to forget Hell, just for now. He had to work out what was happening to Cas. He hoped more than anything that it was just something screwing with his powers. Maybe it was something in the area and they had just walked into its area of effect. He felt Cas relax against him, fingers loosening their death grip on his shirt, breath steadying out as he started to fall asleep.

Dean tried not to think too much about Cas sleeping when he didn't choose to. He ignored how normally the angel would be the last to fall asleep. As far as he was concerned, Cas had chosen to fall asleep there and then, before Dean. Any other option simply wasn't true.


	8. Eighth

Castiel woke to light streaming in through the window on a clear, frozen morning. He was groggy and confused, limbs heavy and head fuzzy, and for several minutes he simply lay in the warm embrace of Dean. As he lay there the previous night slowly came back to him. He remembered being cold, remembered it seeping right through to his bones. He shivered at the memory and curled up closer to Dean, causing the man to stir and grumble something under his breath.

Being cold was not something Castiel enjoyed. He remembered the brief periods of feeling human, time of hunger, tiredness and pain, and he certainly didn't enjoy them. He hoped Dean was right, that last night was purely temporary. He felt fine now, other than the heaviness of sleep still hanging over him. Dean's arms were wrapped around him, the man's torso pressed firmly to his back, keeping him warm and secure. Dean wasn't much bigger than the vessel Castiel inhabited, but his presence was protective and comforting.

Castiel's wings were heavy as he lay there thinking about humanity. They were a weighty reminder of what he really was, what he would lose if he were to fall. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to care if he lost them. Some part of him would be glad. The reminder of what he was told him that he was a mindless soldier of the Lord, cruel and absolute. He didn't want to be that type of creature.

He could always remove his grace and be free of all these doubts. He could be human, be with Dean, and never have to worry about what he was again. He would never hurt anyone again. Without his grace he would be just another man. He liked the idea, but, before he could contemplate it further, Dean stirred beside him, nuzzling against his neck and letting out a long sigh. "Morning," Castiel muttered, slowly rolling himself over to face Dean. He was met with sleepy green eyes and a half-smile that only broadened as he took in Castiel's face.

"Hey, you're looking better," Dean murmured, bringing one hand up to rest against Castiel's cheek. The angel closed his eyes and nodded before curling up further into the warmth of the sheets and Dean's body.

"I feel better," he said softly, trailing his hand up Dean's side slowly. Dean let out a low hiss and bucked his hips forward at the soft touch through his shirt. Castiel felt the prominent morning erection brush against his leg and smirked a little.

"How much better?" Dean grumbled, one strong hand hooking around Castiel's thigh to tug him closer, flush against his own body. Castiel, never one to be dominated, returned the gesture with a tug of his own against Dean's rear, pulling out a groan from the man.

"Enough," he mumbled as he pressed light kisses along Dean's neck. Dean let out a long, low noise of approval as Castiel rolled him onto his back and straddled him easily. If there was one sure way to forget any doubts into his mind, it was to become one with Dean. The man had a way of making him forget everything that was rotten in the world.

Dean's mouth was greedy and wanting as ever, biting and nipping at Castiel's lips as the angel easily unfastened the belt holding up yesterday's jeans. Strong, hot hands were all over Castiel's body, trailing up over his spine, running down his chest and over his hip bones. Dean had a habit of being a bit too handsy, and Castiel was fine until he felt those hands caress his shoulders where his wings joined to his body. He felt his feathers shudder and let out a low growl, hands flying up to catch Dean's wrists and pin them down to the bed.

Dean took it in his stride as always. He was a giver in bed, always willing to please, and took the act as a bit of rough love. Castiel would not show it for what it really was. He didn't want Dean to see him begin to recoil from his true form. He drowned himself in Dean's kisses, his own mouth hungry and firm. He held Dean's wrists easily in one hand as the other trailed down over the hunter's firm torso, tracing taut, quivering muscles.

This was going to be quick and rough, Castiel just knew it. He could feel it all coiling up inside him, tension and fear and grief all battling for the centre stage. He rolled his palm against the tightness in Dean's jeans and heard the man groan out, the sound reverberating through both their bodies. Castiel bit lightly at Dean's lower lip and tightened his grip against his wrists. "Jeans, off," he growled lowly before releasing Dean's hands and rolling off the bed smoothly.

As an angel he could take most pain in the bedroom department, but he had to say things were more pleasant with a bit of aid. He fished out the small bottle from Dean's bag and turned back to the bed to see Dean pushing off his pants and underwear. Somehow Dean always managed to look perfect whilst splayed out, wanting like some common whore. Castiel wondered what it made him to want it.

He tossed the bottle on the bed. "Shirt, too," he ordered quietly as he unfastened his own shirt. Dean obeyed with ease, flinging the item of clothing to the other side of the room. It was too easy to get him undressed. Castiel pushed off his own slacks and underwear and tossed them aside with his shirt before climbing back on top of Dean. This was going to be hasty and messy, which was exactly what he needed right now. Feeling Dean hard and wanting between his legs was almost too much but he held back, pinning Dean's wrists above his head again before trailing the fingers of his free hand along the firm skin of the hunter's chest. "You really shouldn't be so easy," he commented idly as his hand dragged slowly downwards.

Dean growled gently and bucked up, but angelic strength soon slammed him back down into the bed. "You should also behave," Castiel breathed against Dean's ear, hot and sharp with the added nip of his teeth against Dean's earlobe. Dean hissed, every muscle tensing up from his arms to his legs. Castiel marvelled as strong arms flexed, hands clenching into fists. Dean was something incredible to behold when he fell apart.

"Tease," Dean growled out, attempting to get some grip on the bed but finding Castiel had pinned him in every way, feet hooked over his shins to keep him in place.

"Nice try," the angel sighed against Dean's neck before pulling away and reaching for the bottle. He held Dean's wrists firm as he uncapped the bottle easily with one hand and applied a generous amount of liquid to Dean's throbbing erection.

His lips were just inches away as he tossed the bottle aside and began to stroke in long, smooth movements up and down the heat of Dean's length. The man groaned loudly and tried to reach up to the angel's lips, but Cas kept away, closing his eyes to block out the silently pleading gaze of the hunter. The things Dean could do with his eyes alone were inhuman. "I hate you sometimes," Dean gasped out as Castiel ran his finger along the sensitive slit.

"Of course you do," the angel hummed as he pressed a light, teasing kiss to Dean's lips. That was all he was getting.

Castiel rocked forwards to position his hips, but kept his grip on Dean's wrists and legs. He kept his eyes on Dean, Dean's eyes wide and dark, as he guided the hunter into him, sliding back easily and firmly, no preparation needed. Dean let out a long, low, throaty sound as Castiel took him all, his eyes squeezing shut and his arms flexing uselessly against the angel's grip. Castiel felt the burn and eased it with his grace, only leaving unbridled pleasure crackling through his nerve, coiling up in every muscle, short-circuiting his brain.

He would never have done such a thing if he didn't think Dean could handle the pain on his end. On the contrary, Dean only moaned louder at the crushing tightness that engulfed him. Castiel felt the hunter's hips buck up uselessly against him, felt Dean tensed like a spring ready to snap. "Impatient," Castiel hissed as he rocked his hips slowly upwards. Dean's eyes were open again, looking up at the angel with dark passion. The forest green of his irises were almost engulfed by blackness and it felt as though the darkness was just eating Castiel up. "It's a good job I'm impatient too," he breathed before slamming his hips back down.

Dean threw his head back and cried out as the angel set a crippling rhythm. Castiel bit into Dean's neck, teeth sharp but somewhat tender. "Fuck me, Cas," Dean moaned out, sounding every bit the porn star he was acting like. Castiel could only oblige. Releasing Dean's hands and pushing one palm against the wall to balance himself as he rose and fell quickly and roughly on top of the hunter. He felt one hand fly to his hip, gripping tightly but not guiding him, and another wrap around his own arousal.

The angel let out a low groan as Dean matched his rhythm with his hand. He still had his feet hooked over Dean's legs, stopping him from getting in any position to actually take control. The hand that wasn't supporting him on the wall was gripping tightly at Dean's shoulder, hard enough to bruise.

It was never going to last long with Dean's expert hand on him, but Castiel pushed it as far as he could. He managed to hold on until he heard the building cries beneath him, and then he finally let Dean's legs go. Just as he had predicted, the tables quickly turned. Dean planted his feet against the bed and began to thrust up in earnest, hips powerful and sure as they snapped up over and over, driving him hard and fast into Castiel.

The angel cried out as the hand remained on him, pushing him towards the edge with each expert tug. Castiel's back arched and he threw his head back with a primal cry as Dean continued like a freight train, a relentless, unstoppable force. He felt himself coil tighter and tighter, could feel everything ready to snap. "Cas," Dean panted out, his grip loosening on Castiel's hip to caress up his side. "Cas, look at me." Castiel bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking down at Dean.

Of course that was all either of them needed. Castiel could never hold one when Dean looked so thoroughly debauched, and Dean was always the same. Apparently there was something about seeing the result of fucking an angel that made the hunter come apart at the seams, and there was something about that which made Castiel plummet over the edge he had been sitting on.

He climaxed with a loud, throaty cry into the room, feeling all the pressure pour out of him only to be replaced by a pleasure that made him shudder and tremble on top of Dean. The hunter beneath him gave one, last thrust up into the angel, trying to milk his own climax for all it was worth but Castiel could feel Dean's legs trembling, feel his fingers shake as he trailed them up the angel's sides, up over his back, over his shoulders.

Castiel let out a broken sob as he fell forwards, Dean's fingers stilling where they lay over the angel's shoulder blades. "Cas?" Dean's voice was quiet and concerned but Castiel couldn't look at him. He shook his head and rested his forearm against the wall, burying his eyes against his arm and trembling as he came down from his high. Dean slowly moved his hands away from the angel's shoulders, felt the tension steadily leave Castiel. "Come here," he breathed, gently manipulating Castiel's hips so he could slip out and draw the angel closer. Castiel collapsed onto his chest and wept.

He was facing everything all at once. The decisions he had to make were like a tonne weight on his shoulders. He would willingly sacrifice everything for Dean. He would cut out his grace for humanity if it meant gaining a soul and ascending with Dean to Heaven. His wings were like useless lumps on his back, a stark reminder of what he should be. He was not that creature. He was not a cold, heartless soldier. He was not what his wings dictated he should be. "This is the first time I made anyone cry after sex," Dean muttered quietly, softly, against Castiel's hair. He was trying to joke, to make it all better.

There was only one way Castiel could make it all better.


	9. Ninth

**A/N: Warning for self harm.**

**Apologies for the delay, wasn't feeling too good yesterday.  
**

* * *

The terrible thing about self-loathing is it only gets worse. When you're the type of person to keep things to yourself and not speak to your loved ones about your issues because it would cause more harm than good, then the hate towards your own self only grows inside. Maybe it was some medical condition, a side-effect of his time in the mental hospital, his time with Lucifer in his head. Or maybe it was all the thousands of lives he had taken, the filth that had crawled inside his vessel, the danger he had put the brothers through. Whatever it was, it led him to be stood there in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, shirtless and with their largest kitchen knife in hand.

Sigils were carved into the metal of the blade, making it dangerous to angels, making it _hurt._ This was not a blade he had designed to cut and stab, however. This was a knife designed to carve. He remembered the faces of all the brothers he had killed, remembered their glorious songs, their joy and their obedience. He wept for them as he arched his wings out and reached around with the blade, taking firm hold of the bone before cutting at the soft grey feathers.

Pain was irrelevant. He had tried to do his penance in Purgatory and had had that cruelly taken away from him. He was not fit for service. He was not fit for the everyday life he was expected to live. Feathers fell to the floor, bloodied and mangled. The serrated edge of the blade sawed through them, ripped them from his skin. His shoulders trembled as he reached up to make another cut.

Dean had trusted him and looked after him. Even in his darkest hour, Dean had still believed. He had tried so hard to deny Castiel's betrayal. He had been loyal to the end, until he couldn't deny it any further. Looking into Dean Winchester's eyes and knowing everything was a terrible mistake was the worst feeling in the world. Skin ripped and bled, feathers fluttering down into a gathering pool of blood. His wings flashed hot and white against his onslaught before the light flickered and he was left with useless, tattered bone and membrane.

He had destroyed Sam's mind, put the Winchesters through their own personal Hell on Earth. He had opened the gates to Purgatory, tried to play God. He had killed thousands of people, brought devastation and fear. He had never been a god, he had been a mockery. He let out a broken sob as he twisted his arm and reached behind him, pressing the blade near the base of his wing. He had to remove everything that reminded him of the abomination he was. He wasn't worthy of his wings, of his grace.

A strong hand was suddenly upon his, stopping the blade that had already severed the membrane. Castiel looked into the mirror through tear-flooded eyes and caught the blurry image of Dean stood behind him. He was pale and wide eyed, and grip firm and commanding on Castiel's wrist. "Drop the knife, Cas," he said hoarsely. "Please." His last word was barely whispered, catching in the back of his throat as he gently prised the angel's fingers away from the knife.

Castiel slowly let the knife go and Dean threw it rather forcefully into the bathtub before bringing his hands up slowly to the angel's tattered wings. "Why?" he asked in a barely there voice as he tenderly smoothed his hands over them, careful of the open wounds that still leaked blood and light that was the very essence of Castiel. The angel rocked forwards and pressed his hands against the sink, knuckled going white as his shoulders flexed and his wings shuddered with pain.

"They are everything I don't want to be," he answered quietly. Dean was silent for a long moment before he slowly wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist and drew him close, pressing kisses lightly to the back of his neck.

"Cas." He didn't say anything else, just the soft murmur of the nickname he had given to his angel all those years ago. Castiel slowly released the sink and leaned back against Dean, feeling his wings slowly relax. "You don't have to do this to yourself," Dean muttered against his skin, littering soft kisses across the slope of his neck and shoulder. "They show how much you've changed."

"For the worse," Castiel muttered. Dean sighed and slowly span him around so they were facing each other. Dean's eyes were pained and concerned, meeting Castiel's gaze with an unwavering certainty. The look on his face brought all of Castiel's defences down at once and he felt the tears start to well up inside of him.

"You have a heart now, and a mind of your own. You can make decisions, you do what's best for people," Dean explained softly and slowly as he gently smoothed back Castiel's hair and then trailed his fingers along the angel's jaw line. "You've changed and grown, learned about humanity and how to live. How to love." He placed a soft kiss to Castiel's trembling lips and the angel clung to him for all he was worth, a sob tearing through him.

"I did it all wrong," he choked out as Dean pulled away. The hunter rested their foreheads together and sighed.

"Being human is messy, nothing ever seems to work right. We all make our mistakes, just gotta live with them." He pressed another light kiss to Castiel's mouth before reaching towards the cabinet on the wall and pulling out a cloth. "Let's clean you up and watch reruns of that sitcom you like."

Despite all the grief and guilt still washing through the angel, Castiel couldn't bring himself to fight against Dean. He sat patiently as the man cleaned up the cuts, tidied up where the knife had messily ripped the feathers from the skin, stitched up where the membrane had been torn so bad that it moved uselessly and wept blood and light. The knife had done terrible damage, damage that Castiel couldn't heal himself. In time his wings would grow back, but for now they were as mauled and useless as he was.

Dean patched up the wings as well as was possible before leading Castiel downstairs towards the living room. "So how do your wings even work?" Dean asked quietly. He had never seen the extra limbs before, but now they were plain to see, as was the mess on the bathroom floor, and didn't seem to be disappearing. Castiel shrugged before sitting down slowly on the sofa, careful of the tender wounds beneath protective gauze and bandaging.

"They just do… when they are not attached to the human world they are not visible. Only humans bonded with angels can see angel wings, it's very rare. Manipulated by the knife… wrapped up bandages… they'll remain visible," the angel sighed. Dean bit his lip and nodded, not fully understanding but getting the general idea, before he flicked on the TV and sat down carefully beside Castiel.

"So, humans bonded with angels? I thought we were bonded?" Dean asked as he flipped through the channels. Castiel huffed gently and shook his head.

"It takes a special ritual of soul and grace, a special bond. It's generally frowned upon," he answered quietly.

Dean left the conversation there and found the channel with the sitcom reruns on. Castiel curled up against him and the hunter reached to the back of the sofa and pulled at the blanket that had been draped there. He wrapped them both up and held Castiel close, feeling the angel still trembling and shaking from the ordeal. He had no idea what had brought such about such an attempt of self-harm, but he was certain he wasn't going to let it happen again.


	10. Tenth

Dean couldn't really say what made him make the decision to pull up on the side of the road in the ice and snow to inspect the box. Maybe it was because it looked so out place in the middle of nowhere, placed by the roadside amongst the snow. He left the Impala's engine running as he picked his way around the car to inspect the box. It was normal, like any other box, but something about it had just clicked on his radar. He knelt down and slowly unfolded the flaps on top, peering inside the shadows of the cardboard container.

Two large, green eyes blinked back at him, wide and scared. "Oh Jesus," Dean muttered as he stared back down at the small kitten. It was grey with darker stripes and a mostly white face, and Dean knew straight away that there was no leaving this box on the side of the road. He sighed and looked up the long, empty highway. They lived in the middle of nowhere but he was less than five minutes from home now. The roads were almost impassable and he wasn't ready to turn back to town, in the direction he had just come, and risk sliding off the road again. "Looks like Cas gets that extra species," he grumbled as he closed the box again and lifted it up carefully.

The kitten was silent on the drive home. Dean heard it shift around in the box quietly but otherwise it was no bother. "How the fuck am I supposed to look after a cat?" he grumbled to himself as the Impala rocked down the narrow road that led to their house. "Can barely look after an angel." He looked towards the box on the passenger seat and sighed again. This was a terrible idea.

Cas eyed the box warily as Dean stepped through the door with it. "Dean, why do you have a box?" he asked quietly. His wings were still bandaged up and he was wearing the blanket Dean had fashioned into some sort of shawl mixed with a sweater to keep him warm. He had sat up most of the night unable to sleep, and so had made use of his spare time.

"Found it on the side of the road," Dean answered as he fished his phone out of his pocket. He juggled the box and his phone for a moment before Cas helped him, taking the container in his hands and slowly parting the flaps on top.

"It's a cat," the angel said with a frown. Dean rolled his eyes as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Well done, genius, did you learn that in angel school?" Dean immediately regretted his words as the look of hurt flashed across Cas' face, but it was at that moment that Sam picked the phone up.

"Hey, Dean," his brother answered, and Dean could hear the noise of the road against tyres in the background. He was on his way, good. He threw a glance to the angel as he scooped the kitten out and tossed the box to one side, cradling the small animal in his arms and running two long fingers down the length of its spine.

"Hey. Look, I might have done something stupid, but hey, you're the animal guy," Dean started, following Cas as he took the kitten through into the living room and sat down on the sofa with it.

"What happened?" Sam groaned on the other end of the phone.

"Have faith, nothing bad. Just stupid. I found this box on the side of the road, had a kitten in it. I couldn't turn back towards town but if you're on your way could you maybe pick me up some… cat… stuff…" He trailed off, realising that honestly he had no idea what to do with a cat. It was Cas' turn to roll his eyes this time.

Sam laughed and Dean heard him shuffle around with the phone before he spoke again. "Yeah, sure, I'll pick you up a litter tray and stuff. How old is it?" Dean shrugged but Cas could luckily hear the conversation.

"Four months," the angel piped up.

"Four months," Dean repeated. Sam said his goodbyes before hanging up and leaving Dean to an upset angel and a young cat. "Sorry, Cas," Dean sighed as he sank down beside him. Cas shrugged and rubbed idly behind the cat's ears. It was purring away happily, curled up in the blanket that was wrapped loosely around the angel. "Come here." Dean tugged him a little closer and pressed a kiss amongst the angel's hair. "Sam's bringing the stuff for it."

"Her," Cas said quietly, looking down into the large green eyes of the cat. "It's a girl." Dean nodded slowly before looking to Cas' wings and running a hand softly over the bandages.

"We should change your dressings before Sam gets here," he murmured. Cas instinctively tucked his wings in tight to his body but nodded anyway. He hadn't been keen on the idea of Sam seeing him in such a state, but Dean had said he could go to any part of the house he liked and they wouldn't bother him. His brother was in the area hunting a werewolf, though, so it was only right he had a place to crash that wasn't some sleazy motel room.

Dean left Cas on the sofa as he went to get the fresh bandages and returned to find the angel turned, ready, but still hunched over the content cat. The poor creature was thin and a bit bedraggled but seemed to be enjoying the warmth and calm of the angel. Dean would see she got a good clean up when he was done with the wings. He sighed as he sat behind the angel where he was perched sideways on the sofa. He lifted his hands and slowly started to remove the old bandages. The wounds had wept and reopened in places but were otherwise relatively clean. He tidied them all up with a warm, damp cloth before placing the dressings.

It was a long and tedious task considering how large Cas' wingspan was. By the time Dean was finished, the angel was leaning his head against the back of the sofa, eyes closed, fingers still on the back of the sleeping cat. Dean sighed and smoothed his hand gently over the bandage he had just applied before glancing to the clock. Sam would probably be there in ten minutes. He straightened up from the sofa and put the old bandages in a bag for the bin before gently rearranging the sleeping angel so he was more comfortable, adding another blanket to cover his legs and also the cat.

Dean was just smoothing a hand over the angel's hair when Sam let himself in, bringing a fresh whoosh of air with him. Dean shivered and rose to go into the hallway to greet him. "Hey, Cas is asleep, figured we could stay in the kitchen," Dean mumbled. Sam cast a gaze towards the living room door before nodding and motioning to the large bag in his hand.

"Got your cat stuff, I'll show you how to sort it all out later, but I think I need coffee," he said with a shiver. He wasn't wearing enough layers, Dean would bother him about that later. For now they moved into the kitchen for a warm cup of coffee and a catch up, and Dean giving him a piece of his mind for leaving them in a blizzard the other day.


	11. Eleventh

Dean woke up to something soft and fluffy pressed against the side of his face. He groaned and went to bat it away, only to receive sharp claws against his cheek. "Son of a-" He sat up sharply, staring down at the wide-eyed creature that had been curled up beside his head on the pillow. She was staring at him, unblinking, apparently just as startled as he was, claws still unsheathed against the pillow. "Stupid place to sleep, cat," Dean grumbled before looking beside him where Cas was laid, eyes open, watching with a small smile. "Find this funny?" Dean tried to be serious but he couldn't help the grin that crept onto his face. Just seeing a smile on the angel was enough to brighten his day immediately.

"She likes you," Cas said quietly, lifting a hand to run his fingers down her spine, causing her to flex and claw at the pillow and close her eyes contentedly. "She's been laid there over an hour," he muttered. His wings cracked beneath the blanket that was wrapped over them as he flexed them gently and he flicked his gaze back up to Dean again.

Dean gently prised the little cat away from his pillow and moved her a little further down the bed so he could rest his head back down beside Cas'. He lay facing the angel, watching his calm, blue eyes silently. The cat padded around in a small circle for a few seconds before nudging under Cas' arm and curling up against his body. The angel glanced down at her for a moment before returning his attention to Dean.

Cool winter light shone through the curtains, casting the bedroom in a diffused glow that lit up the angel's eyes and skin in a way that just made Dean's heart ache. He was never one for the touching chick flick moments, but the only way to really describe an angel was beautiful. He trailed his fingers of Cas' jaw and sighed, enjoying the peace that fell over them. The only noises were their own breathing and the soft purr of the cat laid between them.

They lay side by side for a long time, until Dean heard the distant vibrating of an incoming call on his phone. He ignored it, but the break in the silence was enough to make him prop his head up on his arm after pressing a light kiss to the angel's lips. "We should get your wings washed," he murmured, trailing a hand idly down Cas' neck and shoulder. The angel hummed and closed his eyes, lifting one hand to rest on top of Dean's where it still above his heart.

Dean could feel the gentle, rhythmic thump of his vessel's heart beneath his fingers, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed air that strictly wasn't necessary. Cas was human in so many ways, and yet not at all. "I think the bandages can come off today," he continued quietly. The wounds needed to breathe and were healing pretty well. He would let Cas' grace take over the rest of the healing now the worst injuries were looking better.

Cas sighed and nodded, glancing down as the cat slid out from under his arm and pranced easily to the edge of the bed. She hopped of lightly before trotting out into the house. "She'll want feeding," the angel muttered, but Dean stopped him from moving.

"I know you like the cat, but stay, just a little longer," Dean implored gently. Cas regarded him for a moment before nodding again. Dean smiled and tugged at his hand lightly, pulling him over as he rolled onto his back so Cas was on top of him. He gently reached up and tugged the blanket away that was still draped untidily over his wings. The angel stretched out the tattered wings and sighed as Dean tugged him down into a light kiss.

He felt Cas relax where he was settled between his legs, soft hands trailing up Dean's bare torso to his shoulders. The angel softly traced the lines of muscles and scars as he went, fingers following the line of a cut, sweeping over the gash of a bullet wound, before coming to rest on the curve between Dean's shoulder and neck. Dean let out a soft moan against Cas' lips and cradled the angel's face as he licked his way gently into Cas' mouth.

The room was bathed in the cool, golden light of the winter morning, nothing but silence outside, the world buried under a thick blanket of snow. Dean was willing to forget the world in those moments with his angel as he let one hand explore the toned, smooth planes of Cas' body. The other remained against his cheek, thumb smoothing over rough stubble, brushing lightly at the corner of the angel's mouth as he was kissed deeply and softly.

Castiel had a way of kissing that drowned out the rest of the world. It was slow and languid, confident yet gentle. He explored Dean's mouth each time like it was the first time. Dean rumbled out a low groan as the angel slid one hand back down his body to the sweat pants he had thrown on before the previous night. He gasped sharply as the angel palmed him teasingly through the fabric, his head rocking back against the pillows as his blunt nails scraped down Cas' spine. "Cas," he breathed out as the angel kissed down his throat, regaining himself long enough to bring his head back forward and catch Cas' attention. "What do you want, Cas?" he asked quietly, bringing up a hand again to rake his fingers gently through the angel's hair.

Cas gazed at him for a moment, a little sleepy but happy nonetheless. "I want you," he said simply, rocking his hips forward to show Dean just how much he wanted. Dean let out a sharp breath and closed his eyes for a minute.

"Are you sure?" Dean managed to say, resting his palm to Cas' cheek to keep him in place and hold his gaze. The angel nodded slowly, sincerely, but still moved his hand up to rest softly on Dean's hip, just above the waistline of his pants.

Dean long out a long breath before pulling the angel back down into a bone melting kiss, his own hands moving to map out the contours of Cas' spine once again, the taut muscles of his shoulders, the strong line of his hips. He shifted his hips and spread his legs a little more so Cas could settle comfortably between them.

The angel made his way slowly down Dean's body, mouth hot and teasing against his skin. He nipped and sucked gently over Dean's throat and collarbone, fingers brushing softly over his nipples before he grazed over them with his teeth and continued his descent. His fingers trailed down over the sweep of Dean's hipbones before settling on the waistband of his pants, Cas' mouth kissing a line down the centre of Dean's ribcage towards his navel.

Dean lifted his hips up as Cas slowly slid the pants down his legs, fingers trailing down over his thighs as his skin was bared to the warm air of the bedroom. Cas kissed along the line of Dean's hip bone as he pushed the pants lower, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin and making Dean buck up involuntarily. Dean lifted his legs to allow the angel to remove the pants and Cas tossed them aside before crawling back up to lay on top of him, kissing softly along his jaw.

Cas rested on his elbow and kissed Dean softly, surely, as Dean ran his thumbs around the waistband of Cas' pants. He heard the rumbling growl of the angel prompting him to do something more than tease and obeyed slowly, pushing the pants down with his hands and first and then lifting his feet to hook around the waistband and push them down. The angel kicked them away before pressing down against him, every inch of their bodies connecting as Cas laced the fingers of one hand with Dean's beside the hunter's head.

It was slow and easy, and Dean felt like they had all the time in the world as Cas reached out his free hand to one side, leaning over slightly as he slid open the drawer in the bedside table and fumbled around for a moment. He produced the small bottle of lube from the jumbled collection of lotions, pills, and other various medical items and pushed the drawer shut before settling back down again.

The lazy kissing continued until Dean heard the cap flip on the tube, felt Cas' hand slip from his, and then a warm, slick hand wrap around him. Dean rocked his head back as the slicked up fingers stroked him a few times before sliding down and back towards his opening. Cas sucked a mark against his neck as he teased the tight muscle, fingers warm and gentle. Dean moaned shamelessly and tried to rock down onto the fingers, but Cas only hooked an arm under his leg and held him in place as he pressed gently yet firmly.

Dean welcomed him, letting out a long sigh as he relaxed around the invasion, his hips rolling slowly against the angel. He felt Cas press feather-light kisses along his chest as he slid the first finger in slowly, curling it up ever so slightly to draw a long, breathy moan from the hunter. Cas kept his hand hooked under Dean's leg as he made his way up, pressing kisses to Dean's throat and jaw before meeting his lips again and swallowing up the needy moans.

The second finger was added slowly, stretching Dean out, scissoring with the first to relax him and prepare him. Dean hissed at the pleasant burn, rolling his hips again and dragging his nails down Cas' back before digging into the angel's rear and growling lowly. "Come on, Cas, do it, already," he moaned. Cas nipped him teasingly on his bottom lip in response before removing his fingers, leaving Dean cold, empty and wanting, looking up into the loving eyes of the angel. Dean let out a low sigh and lifted a hand to cup Cas' cheek as the angel adjusted and slicked up his erection, resting their foreheads together to allow heavy, hot breaths to mingle on the air.

Dean kept his eyes locked with Cas' as the angel pressed against him softly yet insistently, using his grip on Dean's leg to hitch him up a little and provide a better angle before pushing in slowly. Dean let out a shaky breath as Cas filled him up, burning pleasure searing through him. He hooked his legs easily around Cas' waist and pulled him in all the way, watching the way the angel's eyes became lidded with pleasure, a low moan escaping him as he buried himself in Dean.

They remained that way for a few minutes as Cas pressed his lips back against Dean's, sliding their tongues together in a slow, glorious kiss. Dean pressed his fingers to Cas' spine, drawing out a long, guttural groan that shook every bone in Dean's body, making him twitch in arousal. Cas started to move, then, his hips drawing back slowly before rocking forward again. He removed his hand from Dean's leg to lace their fingers back together, pressing their hands into the pillow beside Dean's head as his other hand wrapped around Dean's arousal and stroked him slowly, smoothly and firmly.

It was hot and intense, every inch of Dean's body trying to reach towards Cas and wrap around him. He hooked both his arms around the angel's back, holding him close as his hips rocked up to allow Cas to push deeper, brushing against his prostate and making him moan long and low. Cas' rhythm was slow and patient, rocking Dean slowly but surely towards his climax. It was like every other time, and yet it was totally different. It was almost as if the angel were trying to prove something, as if this were all for Dean. It was a far cry from the controlling, dominating angel that Dean normally fell into bed with, where Dean went with the flow and enjoyed the ride because, quite honestly, there was nothing much more arousing than actually being pushed around by an angel of the Lord.

Dean would probably never admit it out loud, but Cas knew how he liked it, knew how to push his buttons. The angel never let go of his control. He was always somewhat guarded, yet always trying to please. It was an odd mix, but this was still so different. His eyes were so open, almost pleading, as he rocked his hips easily, smoothly. For possibly the first time Dean saw those walls behind Cas' gaze crumble down, felt some sense of control, like he was being asked to control. "Come on, Cas," he breathed as he rolled his hips in time, encouraging the angel to go as deep as possible, pulling him in close with his legs.

He saw the relief in the angel's eyes as Cas obeyed, following Dean's guidance. He pulled Cas down into a kiss, fingers soft and commanding on the back of his neck, tangling in messy dark hair. "Just like that, yes, keep going," he said softly, panting hot breaths against Cas' lips between nipping at them light and sliding his tongue against the angel's. Cas moaned against Dean's mouth and gripped tightly at his fingers where they were laced together, pushing his other hand into the pillow on the other side of Dean's head. Dean hissed and bit gently at Cas' bottom lip, before dropping his head down to the pillow and pushing his hips up against the angel's.

Cas arched his back down towards Dean and drew in a sharp breath, and Dean focused his eyes just long enough to see the skeletal image of Cas' wings flaring out, long enough to imagine them glowing and full of feathers, before his vision sparked and pressure pooled in his stomach. He came with a low cry, clinging to the angel as Cas leaned down and whimpered against his neck. Cas carried on rocking into him, smooth and slow, making Dean ride his climax in waves, pushed by the pulsing of Cas' grace.

Dean regained himself quickly, smoothing his hand down the angel's spine, fingers rolling over each individual vertebra. "Let go, Cas," Dean murmured into the angel's ear, gently kissing the lobe. Cas pressed loose, damp kisses to Dean's neck as he moaned out against his skin and gave his last few, slightly erratic, thrusts. Dean felt him tremble and twitch, the grip on his hand tightening. "My angel," he whispered as Cas stilled on top of him and lay across his chest. "I love you, my angel."


	12. Twelfth

Dean bought decorations before they even had a tree. Cas rummaged through the various bags of tinsel and baubles sceptically, fuzzy little cat brushing up his side. "I never understood the human idea of decorating," he mused softly as he held up the wreath Dean had bought from the market. So maybe he was going overboard, but it was pretty much his first real Christmas, and it was Cas' first Christmas on Earth.

He sat down beside the angel on the floor and pulled a string of golden bells out of one of the bags. "Just makes things feel more festive, I guess," he sighed, looking around at the lounge and contemplating just how they were going to decorate the whole house. Cas nodded and idly scratched behind the cat's ear as he sat cross-legged, contemplating the selection of bags in front of him. He was wearing a v-neck sweater that fitted snugly, hugging his lean frame but still showing the best part of his neck and collarbone.

Dean absent-mindedly reached out and trailed his fingers down the line of Cas' jaw, making the angel shift and close his eyes, a soft sigh slipping from him. He was starting to return a little more to normal, his wings now hidden again and his demeanour changing gradually. Dean knew it was no easy fix. Cas was in a world that wasn't his own, fighting emotions he never thought he would have. All Dean could do was support him. "Will I get to see your wings again?" he asked quietly, sliding his hand around onto Cas' neck to rest there so his thumb could stroke softly over the line of his jaw.

Cas sighed and shifted to look more fully at Dean. He regarded him with soft eyes for a moment before speaking. "I wouldn't dare show them to you in their full form without some sort of bonding… and then it's risky," he said quietly. The cat found the box of tissue paper that had previously contained an old book Dean had discovered for Sam and made herself at home in it.

"Bonding?" Dean was curious. If it meant he could be with his angel for good, then he would do anything. Cas nodded and let out a long breath before returning to searching through the decorations. Dean let his hand drop to rest on Cas' leg, watching. Despite being confused by why it was so important, apparently he did actually want to decorate the porch with large red bows and garlands. Dean, of course, had provided all the materials needed.

"There's a ritual that can be performed to bind us together. It's normally a bond of souls, but it would also work with my grace. It's very unheard of," he muttered as he tugged a garland out of a bag. It was pretty bare but Dean knew he would make something wonderful out of it.

"Is it dangerous?" Dean asked. Dangerous or not he really wanted to try it. The idea was already stuck there in his mind. The angel shook his head and fiddled with the garland thoughtfully.

"The ritual isn't, no. But if you're set on seeing my wings then that could have some complications," he replied. He looked sideways at Dean as he ran the garland through his fingers. "I'm sure you remember what happened the last time someone spied upon my true form." Dean nodded and bit his lip before squeezing the angel's leg lightly.

"Yeah… but it's worth a try, right? What's the ritual like?" Cas went about pulling various items from the bag, lining them up ready to decorate the garland.

"I guess it's like human marriage," he started quietly. "Someone will need to perform the ritual, it'll require blood from us both. It'll also need some special ingredients but I can find those." He worked as he spoke, fishing out various ties and pins from the bags before beginning to attach things to the garland. Red flowers, berries, and other various items that had seemed appropriate. "It might hurt, I'm not sure. It's not something that's done regularly. A human hasn't been bound to an angel in thousands of year." Dean watched his fingers work and took it all in.

It was like marriage. The ring he still kept in his pocket weighed heavily once again and he had to stop himself from reaching inside to run his fingers over it. It still didn't feel like quite the right time, but almost. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, then. We'll do it… I want to do it," he said, probably a little less confidently than he had anticipated. He had been through Hell and Purgatory, no pain could possibly compare to either of them. Yet he was still nervous. It was commitment in its strongest form, something Dean had been avoiding most of his life.

As always, with Cas it was okay. With Cas he would be fine.


	13. Thirteenth

**A/N: Sorry about the delay on this one. I had a pretty bad day yesterday. I will make it up to you!**

**Also, shameless self-promotion, follow my fanfic blog at mapalfiction on tumblr :D full of all my own fanfics, fic recs and also fanart and videos :) hope to see you all there!  
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There was an ice rink in town. Dean noticed it on the way in with Cas to pick up some more cat food, and on the way out he pulled up on the side of the road. "Dean?" The angel looked across at him, hugging the small bag of cat food and toys to his chest. Dean peered out of the window at the ice rink and smiled. It was just a frozen pond, but it was cordoned off and actually wasn't too busy.

"Come on, Cas, it's time we relaxed for a bit," he said as he shifted his gaze to the angel. Cas slid his gaze from Dean to the ice rink and then frowned.

"I don't see the purpose of this," Cas said quietly as Dean took the bag from his arms and reached into the back to place it on the seat.

"Trust me," he sighed before climbing out of the car. The angel followed his lead and was soon stood beside him on the side of the road. He was still wearing the tatty old coat out and about, but at least he had a smart sweater underneath. "Come on," Dean said with a smile before gently taking the angel's hand and leading him towards the makeshift rink. He ignored the slightly indignant look from the attendant as he linked his fingers with Cas and paid to loan two sets of skates.

It had been a while now since Dean had actually cared what people thought. He was past caring if people thought he was gay, and he had certainly never cared if people thought he was sinning. His mentality was certainly one of 'if it's good enough for an angel, it's good enough for me'. "Just put these on," he instructed as they sat on a bench by the side of the rink. Cas took the skates and eyed them up for a moment before silently obeying.

Dean had no idea what it would be like to see an angel on ice. Of course, Cas had exceptional balance, but he seemed unwilling to move. He stood at the side, watching what people were doing, seemingly perplexed by the act of skating. "Dean, I really don't understand-" Dean sighed and cut him short by hopping onto the ice and spinning around to grab Cas' hand and drag him out as well. The angel let out a startled yet still gruff yelp as slid forwards, flailing for only a second before straightening up and glowering at Dean.

He looked like a puppy being taken to the vet, and all Dean could do was laugh. "Seriously, Cas, come on," he implored gently, pushing his weight back so he glided backwards slowly, tugging the angel with him. Cas let himself slide, an exasperated sigh escaping from him.

"What are you trying to achieve?" He raised an eyebrow but still didn't let go of Dean's hand, allowing the hunter to slowly skate backwards and drag him along. Dean had skated a few times as a kid, and as with most things in his life it was something that never left him. It was all just balance and bravery, two things he was pretty good at. He wasn't the most athletic of people really, but skating always worked better when you didn't care if you fell over.

He smirked at Cas and reached forward to take his other hand. "I just want you to skate with me," he said sweetly, swinging their hands for a moment before the angel rolled his eyes and finally reacted.

"As you wish," he muttered as he pushed forward with one skate to come level with Dean. Dean didn't know if he had expected Cas to just fall over, or be like Bambi, or maybe even pull some cool moves, but he was sure he never expected him to just glide up effortlessly alongside him and lace their fingers together as Dean span back around to face the right way.

It was relaxing, spending some time that wasn't hunting or moping around at home together. Dean found his muscles easing and his brain emptying of worries as they moved slowly and easily around the ring. "How are you managing to skate, anyway? I'm sure it's no in angel school," he asked after they had been silent for a long time. Cas smiled and shrugged gently.

"I'm a fast learner, and I have good balance. Also, Jimmy used to go skating with his wife and daughter every year," his voice got a little quieter as he spoke and Dean spotted the distant look starting to appear.

"Oh, right," he said softly, trying to think of something to change the topic with quickly. It turned out he didn't need to think of anything as he hit a groove in the ice and was suddenly flying forward.

Cas, caught unawares, went toppling down with him. Dean slid to a halt and twisted onto his back, looking up at the icy blue sky. Cas had only fallen to his knees and was just to his side, chuckling softly. "Oh, you find this funny?" Dean asked, but couldn't hold back the smirk that crept onto his face as he turned his gaze to see Cas grinning and looking at him.

"I find it hilarious," he said with a grin, crawling a little closer and pressing a cold hand to Dean's cheek. "Having fun?"

"Bit me, Cas," Dean laughed before the angel pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He heard a lady nearby coo at them and rolled his eyes before tugging sharply at Cas' neck and pushing his tongue as far down the angel's throat as possible. It was glorious making out on the ice, Dean had to say, and he would have done it all day if it weren't for the loud cough above them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but there are children on this rink," the annoying man said. Dean sighed and dropped his head away from Cas, looking up at the skinny, spotted young man with the best death stare he could manage.

"The children can get a room," he bit back, but Cas was already getting to his feet, laughing as he did.

"Come on, Dean, I'll make it up to you," the angel muttered as he pulled Dean up. Dean grinned easily and draped his arms around Cas' neck, skating backwards again and ignoring the incredulous snort from the lanky piece of shit.

"When?" he asked as they skated along slowly, Cas' hands resting warm and gentle on his hips. The angel grinned and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth softly.

"As soon as we get out money's worth out of these skates. There's that place out on the road, in the forest," he muttered, moving to kiss Dean's neck with that horribly teasing mouth. Dean smirked and tangled a hand in Cas' hair.

"I'm almost tempted to say fuck getting my money's worth," he murmured. Cas laughed and withdrew to look Dean in the eyes.

"One day, you'll learn patience." Dean shook his head and placed a kiss to Cas' lips before pulling away to turn around.

"Patience doesn't exist with me when it comes to you, Cas," he said over his shoulder. "Come on, how well can you really skate?" He challenged before pushing off and skating away quickly.

It turned out Cas could skate pretty damn good, and a lot faster than Dean. It also turned out he was a sore winner and would only laugh when Dean fell over. It was still the most fun Dean had had in years.


	14. Fourteenth

Castiel woke to the smell of coffee and toast and a pale light creeping through the curtains. It was quiet and the bed was warm, but empty. He pushed himself up and checked the clock. He had slept in, something that was becoming increasingly common. He was starting to actually sleep, not just rest for the sake of resting. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes and trailed fingers through his hair.

He was about to get up when the bedroom door opened and Dean appeared with a tray in his hands. He hesitated for a moment but then smiled gently and moved forwards to place the tray on the bedside table. It carried coffee and toast that Cas didn't need, but certainly enjoyed. "I was hoping to wake you up," Dean sighed as he sat beside Cas on the bed, his weight making the mattress dip down. The angel smiled gently and rested his hand on Dean's where it lay on the bed, reaching out with the other to take a slice of toast.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve the human tradition of breakfast in bed," he mused gently before taking a bite. Dean watched him for a moment, soft half smile on his face.

"Just wanted to do something nice for once," he muttered. Castiel watched him as he ate his toast, regarding him with curious eyes.

"You do nice things every day, Dean," he pointed out. Dean fell silent and watched as Castiel placed the half eaten slice of toast back down and rocked forward to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean turned his head to look at Castiel and the angel could hear his raised heart beat, feel the heat radiating from his body. "What's wrong?"

"What, you think I can't do nice things without something being wrong?" Dean frowned and turned more so he was facing Castiel, bringing one leg up onto the bed. The angel rocked back a bit but still stayed right in Dean's personal space. He watched Dean fidget, saw how uncomfortable he was.

"Dean," he sighed, propping himself up on one arm. "What is it?" Dean gazed at him for a moment before looking down to his knees and drawing in a deep breath.

"I made something for you… I was waiting to give it to you until it felt right, and it feels right now. I was thinking about what you said about this bonding, and how it's like marriage and… well…" He fished into his pocket and pulled something out. It was small and silver and well polished. Castiel stared at where it lay in Dean's palm, glinting in the pale morning light. "I need you, Cas. I want you more than I've wanted anything in my life, and I know the last few days have been rough, but I just want to make it all better." He took the angel's left hand and slowly slipped the band onto his ring finger. "I know these things are normally done on wedding days or some shit but I wanted you to have it now. Now feels right. I just woke up and just knew it was right," he said as he let out a long breath, finally lifting his eyes to look at Castiel.

The angel caught the sincerity in the hunter's eyes before he dropped his own gaze to look down at where the ring sat on his finger. He could see the engravings on it. "We've been through everything imaginable together," Dean continued quietly. "But if you don't like it then I get it, it was just scrap, I mean I-" Castiel cut him off by lifting his hand to press against Dean's cheek, meeting his gaze again and letting out a long, low breath.

"Dean… it's perfect," he murmured. "You doubt yourself. You shouldn't." He leaned forwards to press a kiss to Dean's lips, hand snaking around to tangle his fingers amongst the hair on the back of Dean's head. He heard the hunter make a small noise against his lips and parted long enough to hear the words he had to say.

"You're everything I have," Dean breathed before closing the distance again, desperately clinging to the angel as he pulled Castiel in as close as he could. Castiel would like to think that was a lie. Dean still had Sam. He would never truly be alone. He had a lot more people who cared about him than he thought.

Castiel, on the other hand, only had Dean. Dean was his everything. He fell back onto the bed with the hunter on top of him and kicked the sheets out from between them so Dean could tangle his legs with the angel's. The coffee and toast went cold as the bedroom filled with breathy gasps and throaty moans, fingers clinging to bed sheets and sweat-slicked bodies sliding gloriously together. Castiel believed more than ever that Dean was serious about their bonding.

When the angel went for a shower, and Dean headed downstairs to call his brother like he should have done an hour ago, he removed the ring to inspect it closer. He noticed the engraving on the inside and felt his heart jolt.

_Our Love, Eternal._


	15. Fifteenth

"We're getting married."

"You're doing _what_?" Sam nearly deafened Dean down the phone, his voice sudden pitching up in incredulity. Dean cringed and glanced over to where Cas was pulling on his coat. Today they were going to find a tree.

"Well, not married so much. Married is the wrong word. Bonded, I guess," Dean sighed as he absent-mindedly straightened the collar of the angel that had moved closer. He was wearing a shirt but no tie today. He really had little fashion sense but Dean just let him wear what he liked. "We need your help." Sam let out a strange, strangled noise on the other end of the phone and Dean heard Amelia call out in concern.

"It's fine," Sam replied to her before going silent for a moment. "Dean, are you sure about this? I mean, it's commitment," he said gently. Dean snorted and tugged the angel closer so Cas was pressed against him. Cas immediately went about distracting him with feather-light kisses along his neck.

"Jesus," Dean breathed before clearing his throat. "Yes, I'm sure, never been more sure of anything in my life. Now will you help? We need someone to recite the words, mix up the ingredients."

"What kinda bond is this?" Sam said, shocked. Dean smirked and bit Cas' earlobe gently, making the angel groan out against his neck before pulling back to give Dean the most withering look. He had started it, Dean had no sympathy for him.

"It's a soul bond. Cas says he can get all the stuff for it, we just need a third person to recite it," Dean answered, raising an eyebrow at the frustrated angel in front of him.

"Dean, either we go for the tree or get the hell of the damn phone now," Cas growled under his breath. Dean's smirk widened and he nodded towards the door.

"Alright, go, get in the car, I'll be there in a sec."

"Dean, soul bonding sounds pretty serious," Sam interjected, sounding a little irritated. Dean hummed and watched as Cas took the keys to the Impala and headed outside. His wings still weren't working quite right, it was hard for him to simply zap into places.

"It is serious," Dean sighed, moving towards the hook near the door that held his coat. "But I'm sure about it, trust me. I was thinking about doing it on Thursday," he continued as he cradled the phone against his shoulder and tugged his coat on.

"Alright, sure. If that's what you want. I'll be there in the afternoon," Sam muttered. "And, Dean."

"Yeah?"

"If you fuck this up you'll never live it down." Dean stalled and felt his stomach twist into that all too familiar knot. He swallowed down the tension that had appeared in his throat and bit his lip.

"Yeah, I know. I'm trying my best, Sammy," he said quietly. "I'll see you Thursday."

"Yeah, see you, Dean." The line went dead and Dean closed his eyes for a moment before shoving the phone back into his pocket and stepping out the front door. He locked the door and headed to the car, where Cas had already struck up the engine to warm it up. He would say it was so Dean didn't get cold, but Dean was starting to wonder.

He climbed into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut before looking across at Cas. He was being watched with the usual, steady blue gaze. "Sam said he'll do it," he said with a small smile. Cas nodded and then looked ahead as Dean drove forward out of the drive and up the narrow lane that took them to civilisation.

"He didn't sound sure about it," Cas muttered, taking up his usual position of leaning up against the door and watching his breath cloud against the cold glass of the window. Dean shrugged and settled in his seat as the Impala picked its way along the lane.

"Sam just worries too much," Dean insisted gently. "Anyway, what size tree do you want?" He knew it was the right way to engage the angel, and was pleased when Cas smiled and turned to look at him again.

"Something that'll stand in the corner by the sofa," he replied. "We'll need room for the star on top." He had been researching human Christmas traditions when he had nothing better to do. Dean would often find him on the laptop, figuring out the internet in his own way. It was always trial and error with Cas and technology. He experimented with things until they worked, but his powers of deduction usually led to him being pretty competent pretty fast.

His research into Christmas had led to the need for trees, garlands, big red bows, various Christmas plants, foods that he wanted to try and cook for Sam staying and, of course, mistletoe. Dean hadn't located any mistletoe yet, but he was looking forward to seeing the crafty places the angel would hang it. Dean himself had a few ideas of his own.

There was a place selling trees a few miles up the lane and Dean waited for Cas to choose the one that took his liking the most. He would have just picked the first one he saw if it was his decision, but the angel had other ideas. Half an hour later and they were chaining a wrapped up tree to the back of the Impala. The guy assured them it would be fine on the short journey down the snowy lane as long as Dean didn't go too fast.

They got it home, Cas monitoring the status of the tree all the way, and then had to manhandle the damned thing into the house. Even wrapped up it was a little too wide to fit through the door. Dean, yet again, was glad of the almighty strength of angels as Cas provided the lift and Dean guided the beast of a tree into the house. Some cursing, splinters, and mild anger later and it was stood proudly in the corner, and pine needles were all over the carpet. "Oh, seriously?" Dean huffed as he looked at the green needles littered all over the living room. Cas grinned and looked around too.

"They'll come up with the vacuum," he chuckled before removing his coat and tossing it on the sofa. He left the room to get the vacuum cleaner, leaving Dean to stand and glare at the tree. It was big, green and made the whole room smell. But at least his angel was happy.


	16. Sixteenth

**A/N: I just wanted to say thank you all SO much for your truly amazing reviews. You lift my spirits! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic so much :)**

**This chapter and the next were a prompt from ladyskyelar on Tumblr ^^ Gingerbread houses should be left to set for something like 8 hours so I'm coming back to it xD  
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One of the things Cas had read about for Christmas was food. He had discovered various different things that were made around that time of yeah, but one had certainly caught his attention. "Dean, please be helpful," Cas called as he rolled out the gingerbread dough. Dean was too busy hooking baubles onto the stupidly large tree to care about the angel's baking attempt today. Cas was very competent when it came to the kitchen, Dean, however, was not.

"I highly doubt I can be helpful," he called back, hanging up a small, golden bauble that had a feather attached to it. He had tried to be tasteful with the decorations, gold, silver and red with other odd bits such as the white feathers that were attached to some of the baubles he had found. Considering they had an angel in the house, it was only fair.

"Dean." The angel's tone was low and sharp, the tone that said Dean had better not argue. The hunter sighed and abandoned the tree for now, leaving the cat to roll a bauble around on the floor by herself. Alice, as she had been named, had been particularly 'helpful' when it came to the tree, and Dean had found her hiding in the branches that morning.

"I'm gonna dress you up like an elf," he grumbled to the cat as he stepped over her and headed to the kitchen. "What can I do?" he sighed, padding over to the kitchen counter and observing what the angel was doing. Cas had rolled out the dough neatly, of course, and was looking at Dean with that age-old, 'tired of your shit' look.

"Please, just open the bag of almonds," he said simply, passing Dean the bag. "Then you can arrange them on the roof panels once I've cut them out." Cas laid down one of the template patterns on the dough and picked up the knife to cut it out as Dean opened up the bag of almonds.

"Why are you even doing this, anyway? It's only going to get eaten," Dean grumbled as he almost spilt almonds everywhere. Cas slid a bowl towards him and shrugged gently.

"I was thinking of taking it to the church for the children," he answered quietly as he carefully cut out the shape for the front of the house. Dean hesitated a moment before pouring the half-cut nuts into the bowl. This was the first time in a long time Cas had even considered going close to religion. "The father is very nice, I spoke to him the other day in town," Cas continued, a small smile tugging at his lips. Dean had to share the smile, he knew what was going through Cas' mind.

If only the father had known he was talking to a real life angel of the Lord. He had spoken to a creature from Heaven and hadn't even known about it. Dean pushed the empty bag into the bin and pressed his hands to the counter, leaning there to watch the angel cut out the panels precisely. "He told me the children were attempting a more accurate nativity. His son is playing an angel," Cas said softly as he carried on his work, long fingers making accurate cuts around the templates.

"I thought you wanted to stay away from all that now," Dean murmured as Cas slid the baking tray towards him, motioning to the two roof panels without a word. The hunter went about arranging the almonds to look like tiles as Cas cut out the remaining panels on the other tray.

"I do, but the church helps out with an orphanage not far away, I thought the children might enjoy a treat," Cas sighed. Dean lifted his eyes to see the angel in thought as he cut out the dough. Every day he showed a different side of himself and Dean was never really sure what to believe. He didn't know if he was living with a half insane angel or a mighty warrior of the Lord. Or maybe Cas really was completely bat shit crazy.

Dean finished his decorating just as Cas tidied up his design and stepped back to admire their work. "How long does it need to bake?" Dean asked, drawing a small smirk from the angel as he opened the oven and slipped the trays in.

"About fifteen minutes," he answered as he shut the oven door and finally turned properly to Dean. He had flour on his t-shirt and hands. Dean didn't care. He pulled the angel closer and leaned back against the counter, Cas stood between his slightly parted legs.

"The things we can do in fifteen minutes," he muttered as he pressed his lips to the angel's neck. Cas smelled of chocolate and cinnamon and all the wonderful things he had been baking all day. Dean breathed in deep and felt a small pang of nostalgia, of sitting in his mother's kitchen as she baked small chocolate cakes for him and Sammy.

Dean let out a low sigh and kept his face pressed to Cas' neck, arms hung loosely around his waist. The angel seemed happy enough to stand there, one hand resting on the back of Dean's head as the other rested on his hip. After a few minutes, as the smell of gingerbread started to overwhelm the kitchen, Dean let out a low chuckle. Cas hummed questioningly. "I'm gonna have flour in my hair," Dean mumbled against the angel's soft skin.

"It'll wash out," Cas sighed. "We can take a shower when I'm done." Joint showers with the angel were possibly the best thing known to man. Surprisingly they had only gotten erotic a few times, and Cas found more joy in massaging Dean's aching muscles, kissing him under the spray of the shower and the act of actually washing each other. Dean had to say it was an idea he got behind pretty fast.

Cas pulled away to turn the gingerbread before returning to Dean and placing a kiss against his lips. "You can help me put it together," he said with a small smile that only broadened at Dean's childish groan.

"But the _tree_," he moaned.

"It can wait, the tree isn't going anywhere," Cas retorted. Dean actually stuck his tongue out in response, making the angel roll his eyes.

The gingerbread came out and was left to cool as Cas made the icing that would hold it together. Dean proved extremely unhelpful but the angel insisted he stayed around more for moral support than anything. When it came to sticking the damn thing together, Dean was ordered to simply hold the pieces in place while Cas actually did the difficult bit of piping the icing in neat lines along the edges.

"Dean, hold it steady," Cas mumbled as he corrected the angle of the front of the house and the side panel. Dean sighed and adjusted himself so he could hold it more securely.

"I still don't really see the point in this. I mean, is it even edible?" he grumbled as Cas went to add another wall.

"I'm making it so they can eat it, yes. I'm hoping the children will enjoy it both for its looks and its taste," the angel said as he pressed the walls together and held it all in place to dry. With two of them, they could hold three of the walls up all at once.

"Kids better appreciate it," Dean muttered under his breath, causing the angel to smile, despite his gaze being fixed on the drying icing.

Dean had to admire the patience of the angel. They nearly had a few disasters of walls falling over and the roof nearly slipping off, but Cas persisted. They eventually had the structure up on its cookie base and Dean was getting beyond frustrated. "There," Cas said finally, standing back from the house. "It needs to set now." Dean sighed and let his shoulders slump.

"At last," he grumbled. Cas gently moved the house out of Alice's way, into a nearby cupboard, to set and turned to Dean. He was still covered in flour and Dean grinned and took his hand. "Come on, master chef, it's shower time."


	17. Seventeenth

**A/N: I don't even know what's happening any more. This wasn't meant to be a sex chapter but then Cas got all sexy on me. The 18th was meant to be a sex chapter but I think I'll put that off for now.**

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Dean woke to an empty bed, and only freaked out for a few minutes, actually, before staggering downstairs to find the angel in the kitchen. It was rare for Cas to be up first. Or rather, it was rare for him to actually get out of bed before Dean's woken up. Cas liked to curl up in bed in the morning, liked to watch Dean sleep. It may have been creepy to some, but that was just Cas, and Dean rather enjoyed waking up to an angel curled up against him, watching him.

The panic slowly subsided as Dean let out a low breath and moved over to where the angel was adjusting the dried and set gingerbread house on its cookie platter. "Good morning, Dean," he said softly without even looking in Dean's direction. "Sorry I got up early, Alice knocked over one of the decorations," he sighed as he set up a new batch of icing to decorate with.

Dean threw a glance at the small grey tabby that was napping on one of the dining chairs and shrugged gently. Alice was a trouble maker around Christmas, it had been decided. He moved easily up beside the angel and rubbed a hand along his lower back and round onto his hip. He pressed a light kiss to Cas' neck and rested his chin there on his shoulder. "What's the deal today?" he asked as Cas tipped a bag of gummy drops into a bowl that already contained various chocolates and candy. "And where did all the candy come from?"

"I bought it the other day when you weren't looking," the angel said with a triumphant grin.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean reached forward to grab one of the small, round, chocolates and pop it in his mouth.

"Because I knew you'd eat them all," Cas muttered as he watched Dean's eyebrows raise, a playful pout on the hunter's lips.

"Calling me fat?"

"You just don't know when you stop eating." He slapped Dean's hand lightly as he went for the bowl again. "Decorate the house first, then you can have the leftovers." Dean stuck his tongue out childishly before taking the piping bag Cas was offering him and setting to work.

It turned out decorating a gingerbread house was both entertaining and infuriating. Things never really wanted to stick and Dean spent most of his time holding things in place as Cas decorated the cookie base. The angel made a convincing wall out of little chocolate truffles and a path out of skittles, because they all went together so well. Gummy drops acted as flowers in the front garden. All Dean had managed to do was glue something that looked like a window made out of small, colourful candy, held up by a generous amount of icing that didn't seem to want to stick anything together.

He was glad when Cas helped him, holding things in place as Dean went about decorating the rest of the house. Candy cane decorations around the door, gummy drops under the windows, chocolate drops to give the impression of bricks in places on the house. Dean had to say he was impressed with his own work when they finished.

He watched the angel lick the icing from his fingers where he had been holding things into place where Dean had messily stuck them down. He had tidied up stray icing with his fingers too, and so his hands were certainly a mess. Dean watched that clever tongue flick out, and in an instant his own hand was grabbing Cas' wrist. The angel was silent, curious, as Dean brought the hand up to his lips, kissed the back of it a few times, working his way up to the fingers. He watched the angel's eyes darken and widen as he sucked a finger into his mouth, lips curving up into a wicked grin as he heard the frustrated groan. "Dean," Cas warned quietly, but didn't remove his hand.

Dean moved onto the other finger, trailing his tongue from the sensitive webbing all the way to the tip of the angel's finger. Apparently it was enough. Cas was up into his personal space, one hand firm and strong against his ass. He hauled Dean up easily with one hand, shoving him backwards until he was sat on the counter. "You and your mouth," the angel groaned against Dean's neck as Dean continued to clean up his fingers despite the painful erection that had suddenly made itself known.

"You love it," Dean muttered around Cas' index finger. The angel dug his nails into Dean's hips through his jeans and pulled hip snugly against his body. Dean pulled his mouth away from Cas' fingers to press his lips to the angel's, wrapping his arms loosely around Cas' neck. It turned out Dean wasn't the only one who had been sneaking candy. Cas tasted of peppermint and sugar and chocolate, and Dean lapped it up as he wrapped his legs easily around the angel.

Cas lapped up the sweet taste of icing from Dean's mouth and drew him in close, craning his neck up into the angel and dragging a groan out of Dean. The kitchen was suddenly far too hot. Cas' hands were like fire against Dean's skin as he slipped them up under his shirt, tracing the taut muscles, fingers warm and still slightly moist from Dean's own mouth.

The angel broke the kiss only to bury his face against Dean's neck and bite and suck his mark against the skin there. Dean rocked his head back against the cabinet on the wall and clawed slightly as Cas' back. "Fuck, Cas, seriously," he breathed out as his shirt started to lift. He rocked forwards again to allow Cas to pull it over his head and toss it to one side, leaving Dean shirtless but far from cold. He was burning up, his nerves alight and his brain misfiring in every glorious way possible. This was different.

They had only been together a few months, really. They hadn't long settled down. So far everything had been done in a bed. So far the only other thing they had done was make out in the back of the Impala with a bit of heavy petting thrown in for good measure. This was going in a totally different direction. Cas pulled him forward again, tight against his own hips, as he easily hauled Dean up from the counter.

Dean pressed their lips together again, tangling his fingers in messy dark hair as he was easily carried the short distance across the kitchen to the table. Cas sat him down on the edge of the table, reaching behind Dean easily to swipe away some of the papers that had been scattered there. They clattered to the floor along with a few pens, a calculator and a book, and then there were hot angel hands at his belt, pulling it loose with ease.

He returned the favour, the heat and tension building up between them making his hands fumble, making both their movements frantic as they stripped right down until they were bare and their clothes were tossed aside on the floor. Cas' mouth was searing and wanting as he kissed Dean hard, his hand palming at Dean's arousal, pulling a low moan from the hunter. This was going in all the right directions.

Cas pulled him to the edge of the table and then suddenly he was going lower, fingers slinking down Dean's body and mouth following. Dean rocked back onto his arms and watched as Cas went lower and lower, tongue dipping briefly into his navel before his long fingers wrapped around Dean's arousal and he suddenly took most of the length into his mouth. Dean could only make a futile noise at the back of his throat as he dropped down onto the table, head thudding against the sturdy wood, legs flailing for purchase on something.

He found grip on Cas' shoulders and pushed the heels of his feet against the taut muscle there as Cas spread him wide and took his whole length. Dean was reminded again of the glory of the lack of gag reflex angels had as he felt Cas' throat clench around him and take him deeper. His vision went white and he gripped at the edges of the table with white knuckles as the angel set up a crippling rhythm with his mouth and hand.

The angel's free hand moved to start doing wicked things to Dean's opening. Cas circled it around and teased gently, causing Dean to quiver and groan out into the quiet kitchen. No way was the angel going to take this slow. He simply couldn't. Dean hoped he couldn't, at least. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the angel pulled away from him, but then Cas disappeared, leaving Dean sprawled out, open and wanting, on the table. He was about to shout his anger into the house when Cas reappeared and his disappearance could be forgiven. He was holding a bottle of lube, and Dean thanked all that was holy that this was going this way right now.

The angel slicked up his fingers and then his mouth was back around Dean, hot and consuming and damn near perfect. Dean gripped tight at Cas' hair with one hand as the other threatened to crush the edge of the wooden table into splinters. The angel's fingers teased him, pushed against him and opened him up slowly. It was a perfect, slow burn followed by overwhelming pleasure as Cas curled his finger up against Dean's prostate, and it dragged a long, rumbling moan from the hunter that shook him from head to toe. Cas seemed to like the noise, repeating the motion and making Dean's toes curl against his shoulders.

It was all too much, Dean's senses overloading as Cas took him again and again into his mouth and prised him loose gently but quickly. Dean was dizzy and gasping for air when Cas pulled away and took up the bottle again. The hunter couldn't move, every muscle in his body stretched out and pulled tight, his erection throbbing and moist against his stomach. He watched and panted as Cas slicked himself up, long fingers entrancing as they ran up and down his length, leaving a trail of glistening liquid.

Certainly too much. Dean let his head thud back against the table again as Cas grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, his rear hanging off the edge of the table but supported by the iron grip of the angel on his hip. Cas positioned himself, pressing up against Dean, and then he was moving. It was slow, filling Dean up and short-circuiting his brain, and it was just as glorious as everything else that was happening. He felt a hand on his leg to match the one on his hip, holding him steady, but couldn't look as his eyes rolled back into his head and he arched his back right up from the table.

Cas rocked his hips back and hooked both his arms under Dean's legs, hand setting up a new grip at Dean's waist as he moved forwards and up, angling Dean's hips in just a way that made him hit the sweet spot deep inside. Dean cried out and clawed at the table, lifting his legs easily as Cas leaned forward, one hand flying to support him against the table as he started to fuck Dean in earnest. It was a fast speed that meant neither of them would last long, but within seconds Dean was screaming profanities at the ceiling and surely making marks on the table with his nails. Cas was leaning right over him, lips parted as he panted and moaned out, coming undone in the most perfect way. Dean managed to regain himself long enough to move one of his hands back into Cas' hair, to push himself up on his elbow and crash their lips together.

The arch of Dean's back and the new angle only made things worse, or better. Dean groaned low and hard against the angel's mouth, wrapping his legs tight around Cas' waist as he thrust again and again, hips snapping in and out neatly. The glorious little groans and moans and throaty gasps from the angel were driving Dean over the edge. He clung to Cas, barely supporting himself on his elbow, as the angel fucked him hard and fast.

"Holy fucking… shit," he hissed as he felt all his muscles coiling, ready to snap. "Son of a bitch." His head lolled back and the angel latched onto his throat, teeth and tongue wicked against his skin. "You fucking son of a bitch," Dean groaned loudly. Cas held him up as his arm gave way, and Dean was thankful for angel strength because there was no way he could hold himself up as every muscle in his body contracted and then started to tremble. "Come on, Cas," he panted, meeting the gaze of the angel. His pupils were blown wide and he was flushed and debauched. It was everything Dean liked to see. "With me?" The angel nodded and pressed their lips together again as his thrusts became erratic.

Dean heard the soft whimper against his lips, the hand tightening against the small of his back, before the angel slammed into him one last time and they were tumbling. He moaned against Cas' lips, the kiss rough and sloppy as they both came hard and fast. Dean's vision went white behind his eyelids and he finally gasped for air. The angel let out a trembling sigh and rested his head against Dean's shoulder, his forehead clammy and warm. "Jesus, Cas," Dean breathed, carding one hand through the angel's hair softly. "You should bake more often." All the angel seemed capable of doing was chuckling lowly, holding Dean close to him, the hunter's legs wrapped around his waist. Dean was sure he could get used to this.


	18. Eighteenth

It was exceptionally cold that night and Dean could feel it nipping at his fingers, his toes, his nose and his ears. There was no wind and the night was silent. It was perfect. The hood of the Impala was warm beneath them as they lay out on the blanket, hands laced together. The only noises were the gentle ticking of the engine as it cooled and their steady, gentle breathing. It had been a long day.

Cas had been well enough to go out and find what they needed for their bonding in two days. He had been gone for most of the day and was exhausted. Dean had been hunting a rogue werewolf about forty miles from their home. It had gotten a bit nasty and he had been cut up pretty bad, but luckily that was when Cas had returned to patch him up.

It had seemed like the right thing to do, to stop halfway home, in the middle of nowhere. The snow was untouched and in the distance an owl hooted, its call echoing over the endless darkness in front of them. Dean let out a long breath and sank a little lower on the hood of the Impala. He pressed up against Cas' side and felt the angel squeeze his hand gently. "This was a good idea, Dean," he murmured softly. They were the first words he had said since Dean asked him to trust him as he pulled over into the field.

Dean smiled and turned his head to press a light kiss to Cas' neck. "I told you," he breathed gently. The sky was clear, the stars glinting down at them from their eternal dark blanket. Cas rested his head back against the windshield and looked up, and Dean could see every star reflected in his eyes. They fell silent for a long time, Cas watching the sky as Dean rested his head on the angel's shoulder, watching him, taking him in under the pale light of the half moon.

It was a long time before Cas broke the silence, his voice a gentle rumble in his chest. "I know all their names," he said, causing Dean to turn his gaze up to look at the stars too. They twinkled back down at him, an endless map of light. The angel sighed. "Their real names. The names God gave them. He named a star after each of his angels, or the angels after stars, we were never sure which." Dean rolled his head to watch Cas' face, outlined in pale blue, mostly shadowed in the darkness.

"Do you have a star?" he asked quietly. Cas nodded and pointed up towards the sky. Dean tried to follow the line but couldn't distinguish which would be Cas' amongst the cluster he was pointing at.

"Humans will never reach it. It's near the edge of the universe. At the minute it's what you would call a blue giant," he explained quietly, letting his hand drop to his lap. "You can't see it from here," he sighed. "But it's in that direction."

Things fell silent again and Dean stared at the spot Cas had been pointing at. He wished he could see it. "My star is changing," Cas breathed gently. "It's dwindling, cooling." He had that vacant expression on his face but Dean left him alone, content to just watch the stars and hold his angel's hand. "Dean… I'm falling."

The hunter didn't look, didn't want to look. He felt his gut twist with the news he really didn't want to hear. "Don't say that, Cas. You're fine," he insisted gently.

"I can feel it. I… I don't know what to do." Dean did look now, sensing the upset and the tension in Cas' voice. He rolled onto his side and rested an arm easily over Cas' hips. He drew the angel close, pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"We'll cross that bridge. You're not alone, not any more. You'll always have a home now," he murmured against the angel's soft hair. He smelled of wherever he had been travelling that day, some distant spice, a foreign city, a different environment. "If you are falling, Cas, I'm here for you." The angel sighed and turned into Dean, wrapping one arm around the hunter. Dean felt him ease slowly. "I'll always be here."


	19. Nineteenth

The weather was bad, atrocious, in fact. It was another blizzard in the long line of white-outs that had been whipped up over the last few weeks. Dean muttered under his breath as he peered through the windscreen and into the dark. "I don't think I can drive much longer," he grumbled. It may have been the eve of their bonding, but they always had work to do. A problematic witch a few towns over had been the perfect opportunity to get out of the house, at least until the heavens opened to more snow than was naturally possible and the wind only made it blinding.

Cas sighed and nodded and Dean slowed the Impala gradually, feeling her wheels slide as they tried to find any grip on the frozen road. He pulled over to one side and felt the car rock as the wind battered against it. "I could transport us back to the house," Cas offered quietly. Dean saw him roll his shoulders and imagined those barely healed wings. They were enough to carry Cas but he wasn't sure if he would like to risk them both being transported.

An idea came into his mind and he smirked. "Nah, Cas, I think we can stay here," he muttered as he rested one arm across the back of the front seats and leaned a little closer. The angel turned to look at him, any protest he had dying on his lips as he saw the suggestive expression on Dean's face.

"Dean," Cas purred lowly as Dean edged closer.

"You know, we can sit here and wait it out, but humans, we're fickle things, we get cold easily," Dean murmured, face inches from the angel's. Cas raised an eyebrow and smirked gently.

"Dean, you're using pick up lines on me, now, really?" Dean rocked his head back and let out a bark of laughter before bringing up his cold fingers to slide around and tangle in Cas' hair.

"Fine, I won't use bad pick up lines, but get your ass in the back, now," he growled softly. Cas tilted his head with a smile before everything suddenly shifted and they were in the same position across the back seats.

Dean rumbled low in his chest and planted both hands on the frame of the window, either side of Cas' shoulders, as he leaned in and pressed a hard, hot kiss to the angel's lips. Cas responded with a low whine and greedy hands already clutching and dragging at Dean's clothes. Dean knew it wouldn't take long before Cas was pushing back at him, taking control, rocking up to bite at his lips with his own hungry mouth.

The angel pushed his legs between Dean's and parted his knees to push Dean's legs apart, forcing the hunter to straddle him. Dean heard the radio crackle into life, heard the soft tones of _Bye Bye Miss American Pie_ reach out through the car. Cas was flexing all his angelic muscles in the best of ways. Eager hands pushed away the long sleeved shirt Dean was wearing before tossing it into the front.

The angel was wanting, so badly, and Dean could only feel the same. Each time felt like the first time all over again, needy and hot and perfect. He pushed Cas' coat from his shoulder and then tugged at the hem of the black t-shirt he was wearing. The angel arched his back away from the side of the car and allowed Dean to pull off the item of clothing, leaving his skin bare to the cold air. Cas nipped and licked at Dean's neck as his hands moved to Dean's belt smoothly.

It didn't take them long to be stripped down, skin pressing to skin on the back seat. Dean stayed straddling Cas' hips, Cas sat with his back to the door, hands roaming softly and surely across Dean's back, memorising the curves, dips and contours of muscle and bone. It was almost a ritual, hands trailing over every line of each other's bodies. Dean wanted to memorise the way Cas' hips jutted out, the sharp line of his throat, the gentle slope of his shoulders, every mark on his body including the freckle on his nipple. He already knew them all so well, but as he sat there, naked, straddling Cas, his hands ventured over everything again.

Cas' head thumped back against the damp window as Dean latched onto his throat, teeth brushing lightly against skin. A long, throaty moan ripped through the angel as Dean sank lower, crawling backwards along the seat, trailing tongue and teeth down over the taut chest. He paused to kiss the freckle over the right nipple and then went lower again. He felt a warm hand tangle in his hair, fingers sliding through, clutching lightly at his scalp.

Dean ran his thumbs over the curves of Cas' hips as he sank down. He latched onto the prominent vein crawling up on Cas' pubic bone, up towards his stomach, and ran his tongue along its length. He knew Cas was watching when he heard the loud, high (for Cas) whimper. Dean smirked against his skin, trailing his teeth back down the vein that was only becoming more prominent as Cas because more aroused. He was hard and twitching and Dean could hardly resist any longer.

He wrapped his mouth around Cas easily, enjoying the guttural groan and the thud of Cas' head against the window again. The angel tasted sweet and bitter all at once and Dean savoured it as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Cas' length and trailed his tongue around the head. Cas hissed and then actually growled, clutching at the back of Dean's head as he rocked forward. "Dean," he said huskily, causing Dean to roll his eyes to look up at him through his lashes. The angel's eyes went impossibly darker and he pulled Dean up to meet his lips again.

He adjusted them so the hunter was settled between his legs and he had one foot planted on the bottom of the Impala. Dean soon got the jist. They were without any sort of supplies in the middle of nowhere. If either of them were prepared for this it was Cas. Even knowing the angel's limits, Dean still brought his fingers up to Cas' lips, tracing them along the swollen bottom lip. Cas gazed at him with lidded eyes, blown pupils, and a thoroughly hungry look as he slid his tongue out to run along Dean's fingers.

It made Dean moan lowly, erection throbbing painfully in response as Cas took the fingers into his mouth. Dean watched, entranced, at the way the angel sucked lightly on his fingers. His arousal only increased, if that was even possible, and he withdrew the fingers to plant his lips there instead. Cas slid down against the side of the car so they were nearly completely laid out on the back seat and Dean angled his hips upwards a bit, hand firm against Cas' thigh, before reaching around to press against the angel's opening.

He felt Cas' legs tremble, his back arch up, and his fingers tighten their grip against Dean's shoulders as he slid his finger in. The angel was welcoming as usual, ignoring the obvious burn and simply groaning out louder towards the roof of the Impala. Dean smirked and added the second quickly, knowing Cas wasn't one for preparation when it came to him. The eager words _I just want you inside_ echoed through Dean's mind, from all those months ago, and he rocked up to press their lips together again.

Cas met him, hungry and greedy, tongue sliding along the roof of Dean's mouth as Cas rumbled something like a moan deep in his chest. Dean scissored his fingers before curving them up and brushing against the spot that made Cas' back snap up sharply, head rolling back, fingers digging into Dean's skin, a shameless cry of "_shit_" sounding out through the car. There was nothing like an angel swearing so loudly, so honestly, to make Dean ache all over his body. "Cas, help me out here," he muttered softly against the smooth skin of the angel's shoulder. Cas let out a few sharp breaths before nodding. Dean withdrew his fingers and adjusted, sitting back on his heels on the seat. Cas, always incredibly flexible, rocked forwards and trailed his hands down Dean's sides before lowering his mouth.

Dean's hand slammed into the roof of the Impala as Cas took his right into his mouth until he felt the tight muscles of the angels' throat contract around him again. "Fucking… hell, Cas," he hissed out, wanting to squeeze his eyes tight, to just rock back, but his gaze locked on where he was disappearing into the welcoming mouth of the angel. His fingers scraped against the roof as his other hand tangled in Cas' hair, encouraging the angel, wanting more. Cas growled lowly and swallowed around Dean's arousal before pulling back and away.

Today was one of those days again, Cas just wanted _more_. Some days it was drawn out and sweet, soft and comforting, but others it was just need and want. Dean pushed him back down again and settled back between the angel's legs. He hooked one arm under one of the angel's lithe limbs and hitched him up, rocking his hips back up towards the hood of the Impala. He gave little warning, and Cas was pleading him with darkened eyes, before guiding himself in fast and sure. His hand flew out to press against the cold, damp window of the Impala as he sank in all the way, overwhelmed by the heat and energy of the angel.

Dean had experimented before, of course he had, but nothing in the world had ever compared to sex with an angel. It was consuming, an uncontrollable wave of energy and power. Cas was an indefinable creature wrapped up in a human skin, and that was only more clear when Dean was buried inside of him, their bodies connected, their eyes locked.

The hunter kept his arm hooked under Cas' leg as he withdrew his hips and then snapped them back forwards. Cas moaned out loudly and wrapped his legs up and around Dean's back, pulling him closer, tighter, harder. Dean could only oblige. He spared a thought for the Impala's suspension before he started to thrust harder and faster, supporting himself against the window with one hand as the other clutched at Cas' hip. The angel cried out in appreciation, eyes rolling back into his head and a hand shooting up to the window as well, looking for grip on something. His fingers slid down the condensation, leaving a trail, before he resorted to grabbing the back of the front seat.

With a grip on something, the angel could steady himself enough to rock with Dean, to meet his hips with his own rhythm, to only make things feel ten times better. Dean cursed and arched down to press their lips together, swallowing up the wanton moans of the angel. Cas' hand was between them, stroking himself in time with Dean, and as soon as Dean noticed he felt the coil tighten in his stomach.

Nothing, Dean would argue, was more of a turn on than an angel playing with himself. His thrusts became stilted as he rocked down sharply and forcefully, enjoying the muffled groan of ecstasy as each thrust pounded against Cas' prostate. "Fuck, _Dean,_" Cas whined out, the sound of the word on his tongue making Dean throw in his own moan for good measure. Sometimes he was so glad the angel had picked up profanity. Sam would argue otherwise, but then Sam didn't have to sleep with Cas.

The times Cas swore were increasing. He used to deal with things with an air of frustration and indignation, used to simply stare wide-eyed at Dean in bed, as if he couldn't believe that he was there. As he had settled, agreeing to remain with Dean, and their feelings became clear, he started to become more human. It was the little things, like him needing coffee in the morning for him to function, like him sitting and having a beer with Dean, like him moaning about a movie, and like him swearing when he stubbed his toe or dropped something. It was both glorious and totally saddening all at once. Cas was becoming human.

Dean pushed the thoughts aside as fingers still cold and damp from the window dug into his spine and Cas shouted his name one more time. They were tumbling, then, falling over a cliff into oblivion, and Dean snapped his hips forwards once more as his vision crackled and he felt the energy of the angel surge through him. It was really impossible to hold on any longer than Cas when his grace simply let loose straight through Dean's veins when he climaxed. "Holy… fuck," Dean growled lowly as he felt the pressure flood from him, his muscles trembling.

Cas was boneless and panting beneath him, limbs flopping loosely across the back seat. He looked perfect there, spread out in the back of the Impala, and Dean took the time to admire the flushed skin of his face, the thoroughly kissed lips, the sheen of sweat and the glisten of liquid on his stomach. He removed himself slowly before laying down on top of the angel. The car was hot and steamy, every window covered in condensation other than where they had left the evidence of their act.

They lay chest to chest, ignoring the mess, as they gazed at each other. Dean realised as he stared down into those pools of blue that tomorrow they would be bonded. Tomorrow would be the start of the rest of their lives, officially. Tomorrow Cas would certainly be _his_ angel. He would be _Cas'_ human. He liked the idea. He pressed their lips together soft and gentle and enjoyed Cas' arms wrapping around him, the soft hum of his muscles. He certainly liked the idea.


	20. Twentieth

**A/N: I'll be editing this very shortly. I'm not happy with how brief it is in places. So keep an eye out. I'll probably edit it along with tomorrow's story so I'll let you know 3**

* * *

Binding souls wasn't as complicated as Dean imagined it would be. They set up a table as a makeshift altar and set up the gold-plated bowl and ingredients in a line. The tricky part for anyone who didn't have a handy angel would be finding the ingredients, but Castiel had been travelling around the last few days on his freshly healed wings finding everything they needed. He was tired, a side-effect of travelling on wings that were maybe not as healed as they could have been, but everything was finally ready.

Sam had read the ritual several times and Castiel had explained the whole process to him. All that was left was to get it over with. "Alright," Sam sighed as he smoothed his hand over the page of the book in front of him. "So, I need blood from you both, in the bowl." He pushed the bowl towards them along with a silver knife. Dean grimaced slightly as he picked up the blade, it was just another cut in his life. "Might as well do it over your palm, need that for later," Sam added helpfully. Dean nodded before drawing the edge across his palm, cutting deep enough to give a good trickle into the bowl.

He passed the knife to Castiel and the angel did the same. Dean let enough blood drip into the bowl before withdrawing and hissing against the sting in his palm. Sam scanned over the ritual briefly before looking between the pair. "Okay, shirts off, gotta draw the symbols." Dean grumbled under his breath before pulling his shirt up over his head. Castiel tugged off the old t-shirt he had been wearing and they tossed the garments aside as Sam turned the book around to show a symbol. "Right, draw those symbols on each other's chests using the blood."

Dean eyed up the symbol for a minute before looking at Castiel. "This ritual had better work," he muttered as the angel dipped two fingers into the blood. Castiel snorted in indignation and lifted his hand.

"Have faith, Dean," he said softly before touching his fingers to Dean's chest and drawing the symbol. Dean watched the angel's hand at work until it was drawn and the blood was drying and uncomfortable. "Okay, now do the same," Cas ordered gently. Dean nodded and dipped his fingers into the blood before replicating the symbol as best as possible. He was nowhere near as precise as the angel but it was good enough.

When they were finished, Sam picked up the long strip of fabric from the table. It was some foreign material that was hard to get hold of, intended to channel their energy. "Okay, link hands, press the cuts together," he said as he nodded to Dean and Castiel's bleeding palms. They laced their fingers together before lifting up their hands for Sam. He reached forward and tied their wrists together using the fabric, twisting and crossing over in the middle to form something akin to an infinity sign around their wrists.

Dean looked down to where their hands were joined and let out a long breath. This was it. "This might burn a little," Castiel murmured, lifting his gaze to Dean's eyes. He was wide-eyed and nervous and the angel could sense the tension in the air. This was unknown territory for all of them, he had no prediction of exactly what it would feel like to be bound to an angel, or what it would feel like for him to be bound to a human.

Sam started to cut and grind ingredients and add them to the bowl, starting to recite the ritual as he went. Five words in and Dean felt something tug deep inside him, stirring up and twisting around his core. It was uncomfortable but not painful. Sam murmured words in Latin as he stirred the concoction, and Dean felt his discomfort grow. It was certainly the stirring of his soul, and Castiel was experiencing something similar. His grace was bubbling up, writhing around in his vessel and pressing at the edges of his being.

Castiel's eyes widened a little in realisation as Sam struck the match to ignite the contents of the bowl. "Sam, close your eyes," he managed to get out before the match dropped. Luckily Sam squeezed his eyes shut just before it landed and a bright, sharp blue flame shot up from the bowl towards the ceiling. It burned cold and harsh, its energy bursting out into the room.

All Dean was aware of was pain as the room filled with a blinding light, Castiel's grace bursting forth from his vessel, Dean's soul lurching forward to meet it. They clutched at each other's hands, grip tight and painful, but nowhere near as painful as the searing heat in their chests. Castiel could hear Dean screaming out above the roar of their energy, but couldn't see him beyond the incredible light. "Dean!" His voice was hoarse and strained even to his own ears, but he felt Dean pull him closer in response.

Dean could feel terror that wasn't his own flooding through his body, fear and pain overwhelming him. It took him a moment to realise that it was Castiel's panic he was experiencing. He squeezed the angel's hand tightly, felt some of it dissipate, and managed to draw in a sharp breath. The light around them was fading, energy crackling sharply through the air, and Dean could finally see his angel stood beside him.

Castiel took in the beauty of Dean's soul for the first time in a long time. He shone with brightly, surrounded by a powerful aura. A golden crown of energy marked him as the Righteous Man, his eyes alight like burning emeralds. Castiel felt his breath go tight in his chest, and all he could do was stare. Dean was beautiful. His soul was strong and powerful and he was in awe. However, Dean was staring at him wide-eyed. Confusion swept across him and then he realised. Dean could see him.

Dean could see grand, glowing wings stretching up towards the ceiling, feathers outlined in a strong, crackling blue energy. Along with the two wings that were still clearly healing, their feathers battered and still a bit mangled, there were four other wings, shadows of limbs, floating and dancing on the air. Castiel filled the room with wings and energy and Dean suddenly understood why others were sometimes so terrified of him. He understood why Crowley had backed down, why Castiel commanded angels. He understood it all and yet he couldn't step away.

It didn't help that Dean could see Castiel's faces. All four of them. A lion was staring right back at him, eyes burning bright blue, mane cascading down over the angel's shoulders, which were now a totally different shape over his vessel. A hawk was to his left, a zebra to his right, and the horns of a ram curved up and over the lion's head from the back, binding it all together. Dean reached forward a hand to touch, but his fingers went straight through the true image of Castiel.

The angel rose up and then edged closer, gleaming eyes looming right in Dean's vision. The vessel remained where it was, stunned, stuck into one place. "_Dean, use your soul_," Castiel said gently, except he didn't. Dean felt it through every fibre of his being and it made him tremble and shudder. Castiel's true voice was like a celestial choir, like a waterfall, like a breeze through a forest. It was everything all at once and it sent vibrations right through Dean.

Castiel saw the human concentrate before the soul moved on its own, tendrils of light representing fingers reaching out. He tilted his head, bending down and moving closer to Dean. The hunter's fingers were hesitant at first, but then they made contact with the side of the lion's face and they were warm and made of pure energy. Castiel rumbled low and content, head tilting towards the hand, the fur of the lion soft against Dean's fingers.

To have his true form touched was beyond anything Castiel could ever imagine. He let out a low sigh and opened the eyes he wasn't even aware had been closed to look at Dean, really look at him. He was still magnificent, just as he remembered him the first time they met. "_This won't last, Dean. It's just a side effect."_ Dean let out a slow breath and nodded once.

"_Doesn't mean I can't enjoy seeing you,"_ he replied, and Castiel was surprised at how strong and clear his voice was through their connection. He hummed in happiness, and felt the pulse of joy from Dean, and then retreated slowly back towards his vessel. Dean did the same, and suddenly the light and energy started to fade. The room began to cool and grow darker, and Sam finally removed the arm that had been shielding his eyes from the brightness. He stared wide-eyed at the pair, breath sharp and heavy.

Dean and Castiel locked gazes for a long moment before finally turning to Sam. "Did it work?" The younger hunter gasped out softly. Dean let his mouth hang open for a minute before a slow, easy smile spread onto his face.

"Like a dream," he replied before looking back to the angel. The two largest pairs of wings were still visible to him, folded down neatly to Castiel's back. Castiel smiled and reached forward to untie the fabric around their wrists.

"Yes, thank you, Sam. It worked as intended." He slipped the fabric away and tossed it onto the table, but kept hold of Dean's hand. Dean could feel the calming, warm energy healing his palm and grinned, his own happiness mixing with Castiel's across their bond, filling him up to the brim.

"Although you lied," Dean chuckled. Castiel frowned at him and Dean felt the small throb of confusion stab at him from the angel. "It hurt like a bitch, I thought I was going to catch fire." The angel huffed and shook his head.

"I wouldn't have let that happen, Dean." And Dean believed him, because he could feel the honesty and the apology surge through him.

* * *

Sleep came easy that night with the knowledge that Sam was asleep next door and that Dean had an angel curled around him. Their bond was still raw, every emotion transferred easily between them. They knew where the other was at all times, knew what the other was feeling. It had been bizarre at first, slightly terrifying for Castiel when Dean had stubbed his toe and rage had flooded through them both. The angel had never realised just how angry Dean could get at silly things.

The calm and joy radiating from Castiel soon lulled Dean to sleep. Sex was not something they had even considered that night. Everything was starting to ache and they were both exhausted. They were perfectly content just wrapping up under the warm blankets and settling down for the night. When Dean started to dream, however, he ended up in a place he didn't recognise. It was a forest, but it was bright and friendly, and he was stood in a clearing bathed in warm sunlight. He had never seen such a place before, but the cause of it was soon clear when he turned around and came face to face with the large, looming image of Castiel's true form.

The angel hummed a greeting and sank down onto all fours, made easier because his arms were long and slender. He looked natural with his hands pressed against the grass and Dean wondered why God had made his most magnificent creatures so they looked better walking on all fours. Castiel stretched his six wings before slowly sitting down on the grass. The lion head was watching Dean calmly, the glow from earlier subdued into a shine around eyes that were much like Jimmy Novak's.

Dean moved closer, and it was then that he realised that he himself was in his 'true form'. He was golden and shimmering, and Castiel was regarding him with a humbled gaze. For such a creature to bow its head to Dean was enough to make Dean laugh. "_Cas, just look at me,_" he chuckled, and the angel did. He lifted his giant head again and let out a soft rumble that was something like a purr.

"_I thought we could meet again like this,_" Castiel said cautiously. Dean reached out to him and trailed warm fingers through the thick mane that cascaded down over Castiel's neck and trailed down into a point over his chest. He was nothing like Dean had ever seen before. He looked frail but he was built out of sheer power. His limbs were long and lean, his chest showing his ribs and the pale blue skin covered in angelic markings.

Somehow Dean wasn't surprised that Castiel was blue. He shone with a blue aura, his skin was blue, his eyes were blue, his hair was blue. Everything was just varying shades of blue. He laughed at the thought and the angel tilted his head sideways. "_What's so funny?_"

"_Nothing. It's just… do you like the colour blue or something?_" Castiel snorted and shook his head before lowering it to Dean. He breathed hot air over the human and nuzzled up against his side. Dean buried his fingers against the mane and felt like he was never going to let go again. This was Castiel, the real Castiel.

"_I've been this colour since I was born. But I do like it._" Dean had many questions, such as whether angels came in different colours, whether the colours meant anything, if they all had different faces. Now, however, was not the time. The angel let out a sigh and wrapped all of his wings around Dean, drawing him closer into his long limbs.

"_We should do this more often,_" Dean said gently, and the angel nodded as Dean rubbed behind the soft ears of the lion. It was soothing, a comfort, and Castiel could only let out another content rumble.

"_I agree._"


	21. Twenty-First

Waking up to an over-sized little brother stumbling his way around the kitchen and the gentle hum of happiness from an angel was probably the best way Dean could think to wake up. It was only made better because Sam was happy, because Amelia would be there the next day to spend Christmas with them. There was the minor problem of Riot, and the inevitable battle between dog and cat, but Alice had taken to sleeping and resting upstairs recently and preferred to keep to herself unless she wanted something.

Cas was sprawled out on the sofa with his coffee and a book. His new favourite way to pass the time was reading human novels and learning a few references of his own, which only served to baffle Dean completely. Dean made himself coffee before padding into the living room and lifting Cas' feet to sit down on the sofa. He replaced them over his lap and let out a long sigh.

The angel's wings were still visible, although they were more a shadow of their true form. They were a faint, grey and blue shimmer, and Dean enjoyed watching their behaviour. They were currently relaxed, sprawled out across the living room, feathers trailing along the floor. Dean drew in a long breath, and was reminded by the sweet smell drifting from the kitchen to ask the angel what on Earth he was cooking. "Are you baking again?" he asked as he rested a hand on Cas' leg.

Cas smiled at his book but didn't reply, turning the page silently before taking a sip of his coffee. Sam came into the room and settled himself down into a chair, folding up his long limbs and balancing a mug of coffee in his hands. "It's still weird," Sam grumbled as he carefully placed the mug down on the table.

"What is?" Dean murmured, one eyebrow raised. Cas lifted his gaze from his book to glance over at Sam, a small pulse of amusement coming across from him.

"Seeing you happy," the younger brother chuckled before picking up the newspaper and settling down. "And I thought we avoided the Apocalypse."

"Shut your mouth, I'm allowed to be happy," Dean said with a grin. He propped his feet up on the table and let Cas stretch out over him. "What are you baking, anyway?" He looked at the angel but Cas simply returned to his book.

"It's a surprise. If you can't tell by the smell then I'm not sure if you deserve it," Cas mused gently, eyes scanning quickly over the words in front of him. He was a fast reader, often getting through one or two books a day. They had taken to getting him second hand books, trading in his old ones for ones he hadn't read yet, because he was simply too fast at reading. Dean swore if they kept all his books when they were done then they'd be swimming in books.

He took in a deep breath, trying to place the delicious smell that was wafting in from the kitchen. Something was just beginning to cook in the oven, the scent sweet and sugary. "Is that apple?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the angel. Cas smirked and didn't reply, and Dean was left to wonder.

When Dean returned with Sam from doing a run into town for milk and bread and various things for Amelia's visit, Cas had been doing something with a lot of flour. He was brushing his hands down and wiping the kitchen table with a cloth, brushing away the excess flour. "Okay, what are you baking?" Dean asked, the smell of apple now strong in the kitchen.

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise," Cas said softly, wiping the table clean with ease. "You'll just have to wait." Dean groaned and moved over to the angel, wrapping his hands loosely around his waist.

"I don't want to wait," he whined. Cas raised an eyebrow and looked up at him, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Well you can't eat it raw. So you're gonna have to wait," he said as he tapped Dean's chest lightly and pushed him away. Dean left him to clean as he finally sat down for a few beers with Sam. It was the first time in a long time and he was certainly looking forward to it.

Dean was just into his second beer when he felt Cas call him more than he heard the soft call of his name from the kitchen. He glanced to Sam who pulled a shrug using both his face and shoulders. Dean snorted and stood up before padding through into the kitchen. He was greeted by the sweetest smell he had experienced in a long time and the angel just placing probably the most delicious pie in creation on the table.

He felt his mouth water immediately, and his stomach let out an appreciating growl as he moved to Cas' side. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked as he reached out to the pie. Cas tapped his hand lightly, causing Dean to moan like the big child he was.

"It's _hot_," Cas scolded lightly. "And if you think it's an apple pie, then yes, it's what you think it is." Dean couldn't do anything but hug Cas tighter than he had possibly ever hugged him before.

"I knew there was a reason I married an angel," he muttered against the mess of dark hair. Cas chuckled lowly and wrapped his arms and wings back around Dean.

"I do have my perks. Let it cool a bit first," he mumbled against Dean's neck. Married really was what they were. In fact, it was beyond marriage. Stood there in the kitchen surrounded by angel and the scent of fresh pie, Dean, for possibly the first time in his life, had absolutely no doubts about his choices, and no worries about his future.


	22. Twenty-Second

Dean sat in the clearing, wrapped up in Cas' wings and long limbs. He sat with his back to the angel, head rested amongst the soft fur from the lion's mane on Cas' chest. His eyes were closed as a warm breeze danced through the long grass and rustled the feathers of the angel gently. Dean, in his true form, was dressed in clothes of a strange fashion, a shirt with loose arms, pants that were light and airy, and no shoes. Cas assured him that he also bore a golden crown to mark him as what he really was.

"_I enjoy this,_" Cas said after quite a long time. Dean smiled and rocked his head back to look up at the great lion's head above him.

"_Me too,_" he sighed. He trailed a hand up the long forearm of the angel and slowly turned around to face him. The angel tilted his noble head, and, although he didn't appear to smile, Dean knew he did. He still felt a little touch of uncertainty, however. "_Cas?_"

"_Do you really?_" Dean frowned and lifted a hand to smooth over the wild hair to the side of the lion. The hawk clicked its beak contentedly.

"_Why wouldn't I?_"

"_I am not what anyone would call normal. I respect that I may no longer be attractive to a human. My true form is… different._" Dean stared for a minute before rising to his feet to be level with the angel's grand head.

"_Cas… Castiel… you are the most beautiful thing I have seen,_" he whispered as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the angel's forehead. "_I'd have you no other way._" Cas purred softly, lowly, and rested one, large hand across Dean's back. His long, clawed fingers gripped lightly at him.

"_And you are the most beautiful thing I have seen, Dean Winchester._"

Amelia arrived just before lunch and Alice immediately hissed as loud as she could before darting upstairs to hide somewhere in Dean and Cas' bedroom. Riot was a ball of friendly energy, barrelling around the house for a while before they released him into the garden to let him burn off some of his energy.

Things were easier now Amelia knew the truth. She still looked a bit sideways at Cas, but it was nice to know they didn't have to explain the still slightly strange habits of the angel. Dean sat down on the sofa to settle down and chat to Sam and Amelia. It was nice to see his little brother so happy, a broad grin spread onto his face as Amelia perched on the arm of his chair, her small hand clutched in his, giant one.

Cas appeared from the kitchen with a few beers for them and passed a pair to Sam and Amelia before moving over to Dean. It was then that he caught his toe on the table. It was then that his reaction cause Dean to sit bolt upright. The angel cried out in pain and Dean felt the flash of confusion and terror wash through him from Cas. He was wide eyed, holding his foot in his hand, fingers rubbing over his toes.

Dean reached out with one hand to rest on Cas' forearm, worry starting to gather in him. Amelia and Sam had rocked forwards as well. "Cas? Did… did you hurt yourself?" The angel nodded slowly and let out a low breath, slowly dropping his foot back to the floor.

"I… I don't… I don't understand," he said quietly. Dean knew he understood perfectly as the dread and fear washed straight through him, making his stomach drop violently. He didn't say another word, simply drew Cas down onto his lap, pulling him close into his arms and taking the beer off him gently.

There was a time when Cas could have been shot and not flinched, yet now he showed a very human reaction to stubbing his toes. The angel buried his face against Dean's chest and the hunter caught the worried gazes of his brother and Amelia. He could tell by the look on Sam's face that he knew what was happening too. He looked shocked and upset all at once, an expression of sympathy on his face.

Cas didn't remove his face from Dean's chest for a good three hours. Dean knew he fell asleep at one point and he kept his voice low as he caught up with Sam and Amelia. He trailed his hand idly up and down the angel's back, fingers running over each bump of his spine through his loose t-shirt. When Sam and Amelia stood to get ready to take Riot for a walk, Cas finally stirred again.

The angel lifted his head to look at Dean as the front door shut, his eyes bleary and bloodshot. Dean had known he had been crying silently earlier on, had known because he felt his heart being torn apart and his head pound with grief, but seeing the effects of it was like a blow to his soul. "Oh, Cas," he murmured softly as he lifted a hand to cup the angel's cheek. Cas managed a weak smile and turned his head to gently kiss Dean's palm. His breath was warm and soft against Dean's skin.

He brought up another hand to tangle gently in the angel's hair before pulling him up softly to press their lips together. Cas let out a long sigh and trailed his hand up and over Dean's chest. He pulled away and rested their foreheads together, his wings unfurling from their position on his back and stretching out behind him. "Do you want to talk about it?" Dean asked quietly, smoothing a hand over Cas' hair gently. Cas nodded slowly and closed his eyes against Dean's touch.

"I think I'd like that," he murmured before settling down onto Dean's chest again. Dean adjusted himself and wrapped his arms back around Cas, reaching out experimentally to run the fingers of his soul through Cas' feathers. It worked, the angel letting out a gentle hum as Dean smoothed his hands over the grand arches of his wings.

"Alright, then let's talk," Dean mumbled against Cas' hair. Cas took a deep breath before he started to talk.

He told Dean about his birth, how the star burst into existence on the other side of the universe as God created him from light and energy and love. He told Dean about his older brothers and sisters, and about how he was one of the youngest. He spoke of how he had become a seraph, about the changes in him, his independency from Heaven. He explained the changes of his star, about how it was cooling but not dying, about how it represented his grace slowly dwindling. He admitted his fears about falling, of losing his wings, and Dean held him close as he wept.

Cas was still softly crying against Dean's t-shirt when Sam and Amelia returned. They made themselves scarce in the kitchen as Dean soothed the angel with gentle words in his ear. "It'll be okay, Cas. You'll always have a home. I'll always be here. You'll always be my angel."


	23. Twenty-Third

Everything was covered in a thick layer of snow that day. Dean, Cas, Sam and Amelia all went out for a walk, or rather a clamber, through the snow. Riot went with them despite it being up past his stomach. The dog bounded through the snow ahead of them as they walked side by side and chattered away. Dean had to say it was the most like a family any of them had been in a very long time.

Cas' hand was warm in Dean's, fingers interlaced as they made their way up the lane. It was silent, the snow a heavy blanket over the world. Farmland spread out to either side, interrupted regularly by small woodlands and larger forests. There were several reasons Dean and Cas had decided to settle down in the middle of nowhere. No one bothered them out there, there were no neighbours, it was peaceful.

They stopped in an open field to let Riot run loose, and he promptly vanished into the deeper snow banks. They all laughed and Sam was just leaning down to try to rediscover the dog when Dean launched a large, heavy snowball at the back of his head. The large man gave a high yelp and fell straight forward into the snow, long limbs disappearing as Riot leapt up to pounce on him, all damp fur and tongue. "Fuck, Dean! What are you, five?" Sam yelled from his position on the floor under assault.

Amelia managed to break her fit of giggles to call out. "I'll defend your honour!" Dean span around just in time to see her with her arm drawn back and dove to one side. Cas went the other way, narrowly missing a snowball to the face.

"It's war!" Dean cried before diving behind a nearby bush to plan his attack. He caught Cas staring bemused at Amelia as she wiggled another snowball in her hand.

"Might wanna run, angel boy," she sang as Sam finally pushed his way out of the snow bank. She launched her attack and Dean managed to drag Cas down just before he got hit square in the face.

"Dean, I don't understand… why is this war?" The angel frowned at Dean and the hunter grinned ear to ear.

"No one throws a snowball at me and gets away with it."

"But you were the one who-"

"No one, Cas, now start rolling up balls, with your aim we'll win this," Dean muttered as he started to scoop snow up into his hands. His fingers were already going red and cold but he ignored it as he launched out to one side of the bush and threw the ball with the best possible aim. It sailed over Amelia's shoulder but she ducked long enough for him to find shelter behind a tree.

Dean saw Cas compact the snow in his hand before rising up from behind the bush and letting it fly. Sam was too busy trying to hit Dean around the tree that he didn't notice the ball of wet and cold hurtling towards him until it hit him straight in the ear. "Christ, Cas!"

"Don't blaspheme!" the angel called from his safe spot behind the bush. Dean started laughing, which was mainly his downfall as he didn't regain himself quick enough to avoid the curve ball Amelia threw. It hit him on the shoulder and he only laughed harder as he started to form a counter-attack.

Sam got a snowball in the mouth for his blaspheming and Amelia got caught in the back before they finally both rounded on Cas and drove him back behind a tree. Dean watched from his spot behind a large rock as Cas took a few hits to the back and then dove for cover. It was a brutal war, with Riot galloping around between the two sides, barking loudly and often disappearing into large piles of snow.

The fight went on for about twenty minutes before Dean could no longer feel his fingers and Cas insisted that enough was enough. He cradled Dean's hands in his own to warm them back up and all Sam would do was laugh at how utterly married they were. They were all damp from playing in the snow and none of them but Cas could feel their fingers. Riot was bedraggled and worn out but his tongue lolled out happily and his tail swung briskly side to side. The put his leash back on before heading to the lane and back to the house to get warmed up.

The first thing they did when they got into the house was cast off their coats and shoes. Dean pulled off the damp socks that were only making his feet colder and then ran to find blankets. The others collapsed down in the living room and Dean returned to find Sam with Amelia curled up on his lap in the chair and Cas sprawled out on the sofa. He tossed a blanket to his brother along with an old blanket to dry Riot with, and then settled one over Cas before going to the kitchen to make them some drinks.

Hot chocolate was certainly the right thing to do. The mugs were warm and there was nothing better than curling up on the sofa with Cas resting against his side, under a warm blanket, with a hot drink to chase away the chills. Well, Dean thought there was nothing better until he was settled down in a warm bed with the angel. Cas was straddling his hips easily, mouth gentle and soft against Dean's. His hands explored the expanse of Dean's bare chest as if it were the first time all over again, fingers tracing the lines of muscles and scars.

Dean slipped his hands up and round onto Cas' shoulders, slowly and cautiously. The angel tensed for a brief moment before arching into the touch, a soft hum vibrating against Dean's mouth. Dean traced his fingers over the lines of Cas' shoulder blades, and then suddenly they were touching soft feathers. He dropped his head back and opened his eyes to see the grand arch of the angel's wings above him. They were light grey and shone with a gentle, blue glow from his grace. Dean drew in a long breath and slowly reached out to stroke his fingers, his real fingers, over the warm feathers on the top arch of Cas' wing.

The feathers were softer than anything he had touched before and he felt the wing press against his palm gently, the feathers fanning out as he unfurled them slightly. Dean pulled his eyes away from the wings to fix his gaze to Cas', and was met with the irises of the angel glowing softly. A smile tugged at his lips and Cas returned it as he smoothed a hand through Dean's hair. "I thought we could try this," he whispered gently. "Heaven would cast me out forever if they knew a human had seen my wings, but it's not like I care anymore." His smile spread into a grin and Dean chuckled softly before leaning up to meet Cas' lips again.

The angel was as giving as always, his tongue fast and clever, his lips warm and soft. He tasted of chocolate and smelled like fresh winter air. Dean breathed in deep and sank down into the mattress. He slid his hands down to the angel's narrow hips where his soft sleep pants sat loosely. Cas rocked his hips gently and Dean felt one arousal press against the other. He started to slide the pants down and Cas returned the favour. In one, swift movement they were both naked and Cas settled back down over Dean's hips, running his hands smoothly up over the hunter's chest. He lowered his lips to trace kisses over each of Dean's scars, fingers following the lines. He would never heal them. Dean's scars were his own to keep, and Cas understood that. He had his own scars, but none that were visible.

Dean felt the tickle of feathers along his sides as Cas swept his wings forwards and trailed the tips of his feathers over the hunter's skin. They were like a summer breeze and they sent a shiver through Dean's entire body. The angel trailed his kisses lower and lower as one hand moved to stroke the whole length of Dean's arousal. The hunter pushed his head back into the pillow and arched up, pressing his hips up hard against Cas. He occupied himself by digging his hands into the soft feathers of the angel's wings, dragging out a deep, ragged moan from him. Cas backed down out of Dean's reach so all the hunter could do was clutch useless at the angel's hair, and then he was taking Dean into his mouth, swift and certain.

Dean's vision went dark and he gasped silently for air as he felt himself being engulfed. Cas trailed his tongue right along his length before taking him in again until Dean felt the tightness of his throat again. "Oh, fuck you, Cas," Dean moaned out, one hand twisting the sheets between his fingers. The angel chuckled around him, the deep rumble sending a shockwave straight through Dean, only making him moan louder. "My brother is in the next room," he said through gritted teeth. The angel paid him no heed and instead took him from base to tip into his mouth, one hand massaging Dean's balls teasingly. "I h-... hate you," Dean managed to gasp out. Cas hummed softly and continued what he was doing, sliding his mouth up and down Dean's arousal, breath hot from his nose against Dean's skin.

Cas clearly had other plans than to just push Dean over the edge with his mouth, because he soon pulled off and made his way back up. "Here," he said roughly, voice hoarse from having Dean so far down his throat any normal person would have choked. He offered his fingers to Dean, his eyes dark and commanding. It was all the commanding Dean needed before he took the fingers into his mouth, trailing his tongue along them to slick them up.

Dean was hardly expecting the angel to them reach around and push into himself, balancing himself forward on his free arm as he shamelessly slipped his fingers inside. Dean watched, wide-eyed, erection throbbing painfully, as Cas simply started fucking himself with his fingers. "Holy… just… fuck," he choked out before pulling Cas down into a kiss. He could still taste himself on the angel's tongue, but that was right at the back of his mind as he was fully aware that Cas was still using his own fingers to stretch himself wide.

"You'll be the death of me," Dean murmured as his erection twitched and throbbed for some action again. Cas moaned gently against Dean's mouth and then pulled away.

"I could say the same, Dean," the angel panted. His irises had been reduced to a thin glow around blown pupils, his face was flushed and his lips were thoroughly kissed. There was something about it all that just made Dean so incredibly happy. Cas must have felt the happiness because he grinned before straightening up and removing his fingers.

Cas rocked his hips forward and positioned himself. Dean ran his hands up the angel's firm thighs as they trembled before he lowered himself. He sank onto Dean slowly and smoothly, taking him inch by glorious inch until they connected again. Cas let out a ragged gasp, fingers clawing dully against Dean's chest as he rocked his head back. Dean's mind was blank, and all he could do was stare at the way the sweat was gathering on Cas' collarbone, the way his chest rose and fell with each, panted breath, the way his muscles flexed and tensed as he slowly started to rock his hips.

At first the angel just rocked gently, moving Dean inside him teasingly, gazing down at him with a wicked grin on his face. No angel should have been able to wear such a grin. Dean trailed a hand down Cas' forearm before taking his hand and linking their fingers. He brought the hand up to kiss it before guiding it to rest beside his head, against his palm. Cas leaned against it as he finally drew his hips upwards, and Dean felt the perfect burn of pleasure along his length at the tightness of the angel.

Cas hovered for a long moment, dropping a kiss onto Dean's lips, before he slammed his hips back down. Dean cried out and threw his head back, planting his feet against the mattress to give them both better stability. It only helped Cas to pick up a fast, hard pace, using Dean's thighs to push against, his feet hooked under Dean's legs, as he rode him easily. Dean was beyond words, his mind a glorious haze of light. He kept their fingers laced as his other hand reached up to play with Cas' wing, fingers slipping through the feathers gently.

The angel slowed his movements as he felt the hand in his wing, breath catching in his chest as he sat back against Dean's pelvis and leaned down to bury his face in the hunter's neck. Dean squeezed his hand tightly and continued his gentle strokes through the feathers, still a little in disarray from the knife incident, as he slowly began to rock his hips up against Cas. He kept it slow and gentle, but still pushed in deep. It was intimate and perfect and he could feel Cas' hot breath against his skin before soft lips trailing kisses along his neck.

Cas moaned gently as Dean adjusted and angled his hips a little better, rolling them up so he pushed against the angel's prostate. "Dean, I won't last," he breathed softly against his neck. Dean turned his head and placed a kiss amongst Cas' hair.

"Sex is overrated anyway," he murmured as he gently rolled his hips up again. Cas breathed out heavily and pushed himself up onto his arms again. Dean slipped his free hand around and under his wing, nestling it between the feathers and the warm skin of the angel's shoulder. "As long as we're together." Cas nodded softly before rolling his hips with Dean. It was a slow, intimate movement they set up that had them both moaning quietly, breathily as they moved together.

It didn't take long, but Dean didn't mind. Cas arched his back towards Dean and he watched as the angel's wings unfurled and stretched upwards until the tips nearly met. He saw the shadow of the other four wings as the feathers trembled and shivered, as the angel let out a long, low moan and pushed back hard against Dean's hips. He pressed up against Cas and felt him tighten, felt the surge of pleasure and joy and had no hope of holding on. He clung to Cas' hand and pulled him down into a long, deep kiss, still rolling his hips tightly against Cas', pushing him through his climax gently.

They eventually collapsed, Cas laid on top of Dean, and the angel wrapped the hunter up in his wings as they curled up beneath the sheets. Dean held him close, smoothing a hand comfortingly over Cas' hair as he listened to the calm, heavy breaths of his angel. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep the scent of them, together. A smile tugged at his lips and he rocked his head forward to press a kiss to the crown of Cas' head. "I love you, Castiel," he whispered gently, not sure if the angel was even awake any more. In the darkness he didn't see the broad smile that crept onto Cas' face, but he was soon lulled to sleep with a gentle, warm sense of happiness.


	24. Twenty-Fourth

It was dark outside, the snow silent and heavy on the ground, and Dean was thankful for the roaring fire in the living room and the nest of blankets and cushions Cas had made on the floor. Dean curled up with him, head in the angel's lap. Cas trailed a hand softly through Dean's hair as he sat and watched the flames dance in the fireplace.

Dean heard Sam's footsteps as he returned from the kitchen and reached out a hand blindly for the bottle of beer he had asked for. He kept his eyes shut, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the angel, Cas' spiritual wings folded around him. He expected to feel cold glass in his hand, but instead he wrapped his fingers around something leafy. He cracked an eye open and looked up into Sam's grinning face.

His eyes trailed down from Sam's face to where his hand was gripping some type of plant. He took in the white berries and fine leaves and then snorted gently. "Seriously?" Sam laughed and let go, wiggling the beer in his other hand.

"Be a good boy, and then you get the beer," he teased. Dean grinned and twirled the mistletoe around in his fingers, rolling his head back to look up at Cas. The angel was eyeing up the small sprig of leaves and berries warily. Dean knew the angel understood the reference, he had been around on Earth long enough to know the traditions.

Dean pushed himself up onto his knees so he was knelt in front of Cas. The angel laughed as Dean held the mistletoe up above their heads and lifted a hand to tangle in the hair at the back of Cas' head. "I don't think this is necessary," Cas muttered, a grin flashing across his face as he turned his head briefly to look up at Sam. "I kiss Dean every day, foliage shouldn't make a difference." Sam laughed and showed the other beer he had for Cas. The angel rolled his eyes and then looked back to Dean.

"It's tradition, Cas, now pucker up," Dean chuckled before leaning forward. The angel grinned against Dean's mouth, resting his long fingers against Dean's neck and drawing him in closer. Dean ran his tongue against Cas' bottom lip and the angel opened up to him, pushing their tongues together and pulling Dean easily onto his lap.

"Jesus, guys, just a peck would have done," Sam grumbled as he placed the drinks down on the floor and then turned to sit down with Amelia again. Dean pulled away long enough to throw the mistletoe at Sam. His little brother caught it easily and then laughed as he flopped down onto the sofa and was immediately pounced on by Riot. "Come here, boy, how about a kiss," he chuckled as the dog licked his face enthusiastically, climbing up onto his chest.

Dean heard Amelia laugh but he didn't bother looking up as he busied himself with Cas' mouth. He was warm and comfortable, cradled in the arms and wings of the angel. Suddenly he was very excited about tomorrow. Their first real Christmas together.


	25. Twenty-Fifth

**A/N: Well, that's all, folks. I am SO glad you all enjoyed reading this, and thank you all for taking part and leaving your comments and generally making me the happiest fanfic writer out there. Sorry this one isn't as long as I'd have liked, but I actually don't think it needs to be longer.**

**Dean and Castiel wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!  
**

* * *

Dean was up early to help Castiel with the food. There was a lot of work to do, and Dean took orders from the angel to make himself useful. Sam and Amelia helped too and the kitchen was filled with a busy family atmosphere for the first time. Riot watched as the food was prepared and Alice was curled up on one of the chairs to sleep. They had settled their differences at last and were quite happy being in the same room now.

They sat down to eat at midday around the table, which was piled high with steaming food that made Dean's mouth water and even tempted Castiel to stack up his plate with food. They laughed and shared stories, such as the time Sam cried his eyes out when he fell of a bike and into a pond, and when Dean got so drunk he woke up dressed in drag, and the time Dean found Castiel dancing dramatically to _Kansas_ at 5am, not to mention the time Amelia fell down the porch steps and face first into the cake she had been carrying.

They retreated after cleaning up another of Castiel's amazing pies, cherry this time, to the living room with a few beers and a bottle of wine, not to mention the stash of eggnog Dean had revealed that morning. They all settled down around the living room and Sam started to drag the presents out from under the tree. There weren't many, but it was always the thought that counted. He started to pass the presents around from where he was sprawled out on the floor on his stomach. "Dean," he said as he held out a small package for his brother.

Dean took the parcel and read the label. _To Dean, Merry Christmas, from Sam and Amelia (and Riot)._ He chuckled and pulled at the paper until it ripped and started to fall away. It revealed a box with _Star Trek_ written across it and an image of the _Enterprise_. Dean raised an eyebrow and looked up at Sam. "You build it yourself," Amelia explained as Sam continued sorting through the presents. "We thought that now you had your own place you could have a few hobbies, healthy hobbies," she chuckled. "And when you build it, at least you'll have somewhere to put it." Dean nodded and smiled.

"Yeah, thanks, it's great," Dean laughed, placing it down in front of him and reading the text on the box as Sam passed a present over to Amelia.

Dean immediately recognised it as the present Cas had poorly wrapped from her. Angels may have been dextrous and intelligent but they were still defeated by sticky tape. Amelia peeled apart the paper slowly to reveal the dark red box that contained a selection of chocolate liqueurs. She laughed and popped the lid off. "Oh, how did you know," she chuckled as she popped one into her mouth. Dean smirked.

"It was Cas' idea, I was just gonna get you perfume or something," Dean mumbled as Sam started to open his present.

"Amelia never smelled of perfume, I knew she wouldn't be interested," Castiel mused gently as he handed Dean a small parcel. He took it and started to pull away the paper. A little box was inside, and inside the box was an amulet hanging off a leather cord. It wasn't like the amulet he used to have, but it was old, possibly ancient. It was circular and a tarnished gold, with an engraving of a lightning bolt, and something that looked like a sun.

Dean ran a finger over the pendant and looked up to meet Castiel's expectant eyes. "It's Aztec," the angel said quietly. "It's meant to represent the celebration of joy and life in every living day." A small smile tugged at Dean's lips as he looked back down and slowly removed the pendant from its box. He slipped it around his neck and it settled against his chest comfortingly.

"Thank you, Cas," he muttered as he leaned across the space between them and pressed a kiss to the angel's lips.

Sam unwrapped his present from Dean and Castiel, a new knife, ornamental and an antique, and then helped Riot to open his. The dog had a present from both Dean and Castiel and also Sam and Amelia, and he revelled in tearing open the paper to pull out a marrow-filled bone and then a brand new tug toy. Alice unwrapped a new stuffed toy and a fancy scratching post, and Castiel unwrapped a bundle of new clothes from Sam and Amelia.

It left only the small present Dean pulled from his pocket for Castiel. He offered to the angel and he took it slowly. He had really not expected anything for Christmas, it was not his place to expect. He turned the present over in his hands. It was small, a box, and wrapped untidily. He gently started to open it, revealing a black box beneath the paper. The room was silent as he pushed the lid up, and at first he was confused when all that was inside was a key.

Castiel lifted his gaze to Dean, asking silently for some explanation. The hunter smiled gently, but there was some nervousness about him. "It's a key to the Impala," he explained softly. "I know we have this place but… she's always been my home, always been there for me. Even when this place is gone, she'll still be there. She'll always be there for you too." He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled softly. "And maybe when the snow clears a bit you can learn to drive, too."

He looked at Castiel with sheepish eyes and the angel smiled before crawling over to him. "Thank you, Dean, I love it." He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and buried his face against his skin. He may have been falling, he may have been facing humanity, but he had been given the best gift he could ever have. He had been given a home.


End file.
